


The Road Ahead

by Claranon



Series: The Princess and the Knight [8]
Category: Dragon Quest Series, Dragon Quest XI
Genre: F/M, Happy Ending, Is it a spoiler to say something set in a DQ universe has a happy ending?, Not sure how to tag without giving stuff away, Only a Bit More Suffering 2019, There's swords and sorcery and whatnot, so there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 08:48:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18657046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claranon/pseuds/Claranon
Summary: Jade looks to both the future and the past as she tries to figure out her place in Heliodor. But when the call to action comes, a true princessneverstands down—especially not with stakes this high.





	The Road Ahead

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here we are at the end! There's this (gargantuan) chapter and then a short epilogue that I'll be posting tomorrow. Do I manage to get these two goobers to work things out with each other over the course of 22,000 words? Who can really say...
> 
> Endless, eternal gratitude to [Flutiebear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flutiebear) for being such a wonderful support throughout these past few months of my tearing my hair out over writing for the first time in years. Thanks also to my husband for being an all-around champ about this _completely_ on-brand obsession of mine, that he still somehow never saw coming.
> 
> I'd love to hear any and all reactions, and I'll see you tomorrow for the very last part!

Jade had often fantasized, over the years, about what she might do if the power of time had been within her grasp.

It was a common pastime of children the world over, of course, in response to the grievous wrongs inflicted upon them: treats dropped in the dirt, favourite dresses torn, beloved toys broken beyond repair. The scolding over a mischievous prank had usually sent the young princess wailing with regret to her youthful partners-in-crime, oblivious to the harshness of the punishments they’d accepted in her stead.

The first inkling she’d had of the true injustice of time’s march had been when she’d stumbled upon a young knight hiding in a forgotten alcove on the anniversary of his homeland’s destruction. He’d hurriedly scrubbed at his face when he’d spotted her and affected a strained cheerfulness, but she hadn’t been fooled; and even with her childlike ignorance of the world, at that moment she would have given anything— _anything_ —to be able to wrench over the hourglass and return the smile to his face.

A dreary funeral, clinging to her father’s hand in her brand new black dress that itched at the collar; a churning river, frantically trying to hold on to the basket in her arms and the hope of the world it contained; a thousand restless nights, hiding her tears from the kindly old man who couldn’t understand the desperate sadness of a lonely girl’s heart.

It would be many years before she’d learn of the enormous clockwork tower and its endlessly patient guardian; and so, she did the only thing she _could_ do throughout that long exile: endure. Take the lessons from her failures and discard the rest, over and over, until the strength she gained from it could never be outweighed by the regrets. If time’s march was relentless, then she would be too. Childish yearnings for the impossible were left behind, as useless as the scared, weak little child herself.

So when the sound of birdsong outside the window heralded the end of the second sleepless night in a row since the disastrous training room confrontation, Jade decided it was well time to get up from the dirt, brush herself off, and carry on.

Her first action was to sit at her desk and scrawl a letter in such hasty handwriting as would give her former tutors conniptions. The man she’d addressed it to was well used to her indifferent attempts at penmanship, and had usually suggested a break from lessons _himself_ in order to continue practice with her kicking—something her younger self had always agreed to with enthusiasm.

Letter finished, she sealed it and left it on her desk until she could track down a messenger. The lines of communication between Heliodor and Dundrasil were strong, and she had confidence it would reach its destination within the week.

Then, Jade dressed herself with more than her usual care in the morning. Her unwieldy gowns were immediately discarded from consideration, as was her customary plain outfit. She finally settled on a lacy blouse and divided skirts—light enough for ease of movement, but not out of place in a council chamber or formal luncheon. Her mind worked distractedly as she pulled the clothing on, already buzzing with ideas she could take to her seamstress.

She was at her father’s door as the first rays of dawn began to spill through the windows into the Great Hall below. He rose early these days, and her impatient resolve wouldn’t let her waste a single second more than she had to. The guard outside covered a yawn with his hand as she waited for an answer to her knock, and she gave him a small smile of sympathy.

“Dearest,” her father said in surprise as he ushered her into the room and closed the door behind her. “You are up quite early this morning. Is something the matter?”

Jade let him wave her to the couch, where she sat primly with her back straight and legs crossed at the ankles. Carnelian joined her, his beard bristling and his eyes concerned, and she felt a brief pang of guilt at having worried him.

Drawing in a deep breath, the Crown Princess of Heliodor squared her shoulders.

“Father,” she said with determination, “I want to talk about Heliodor’s future—and my own.”

 

* * *

 

Never content to dip a toe when she could instead jump in outright, Jade threw herself into her new resolutions with vigour.

She learned very quickly that _observing_ the ins and outs of a ruler’s daily life was entirely different from actively _participating_ in them. What had once seemed so stuffy and ponderous—especially compared to the allure of fresh air and exhilarating combat—took on an entirely new light when it was _her_ decisions alone determining the fate of this treaty or that policy, with all the consequences alongside.

To her surprise, her father had approached her entreatment for greater responsibility in the kingdom’s affairs with far more enthusiasm than she’d expected. Wearily protective in all matters military, he seemed content to remain hands-off in this new venture, providing feedback and advice only when requested. Jade was grateful for it, and valued his counsel all the more as a result.

“Your Highness,” the Exchequer protested in a morning meeting several days after her conversation with her father, “I simply cannot understand your reasoning. The tax burdens of the Downtown citizenry are _already_ lighter than those of Upper Heliodor. Should we not increase them instead, to demonstrate the strength of the crown and discourage further degeneracy?”

As Jade marshalled her thoughts, she idly wondered if the funny little cap the man wore was some obscure requirement of his office. He certainly seemed attached to the thing, repeatedly grabbing it off his head and twisting it in his hands as a nervous accompaniment to his words.

“They can’t give what they don’t have, Your Excellency,” she explained with hard-won patience. “If you raise the tax rate, they’ll only be forced to steal _more_ to compensate.”

“But surely if enough of them were thrown into the dungeon as examples—”

“And how much will _that_ cost the treasury?” she demanded, her finger forcefully jabbing into the table as punctuation. The Exchequer scowled across the table at her and crossed his arms.

Jade took in a breath and held it for a moment to centre herself. She was starting to see debates as their own kind of battlefield, her opponents wielding words and authority as their weapons. The moves were still unpredictable compared to her familiarity with singing steel and iron, but she had never yet encountered a fight she was willing to back down from.

She readied her next attack and lobbed it over. “Look, Your Excellency, I know people like this. I’ve _been_ them. They aren’t stealing because they want to, but because they need to. The more they have, the more they’ll be able to _do_ —both for themselves, and for Heliodor.”

The Exchequer sighed and rubbed his nose. To his credit, he did _not_ attempt a furtive glance over to the corner of the room as the previous minister that morning had done, and her estimation of the man rose considerably.

“Very well, Your Highness,” he conceded grudgingly. “We shall lower the rate for six months and see how it turns out—both Downtown _and_ in the dungeons.”

“Wonderful, Your Excellency,” Jade replied, unable to help the small smile of triumph that slipped onto her face. She debated briefly about whether or not it was appropriate to thank him for agreeing to carry out _her_ directive, but he was already taking his leave before she could decide.

After the Exchequer exited the room, hat once more stuffed upon his balding head, she turned to the corner. “Well, Father?”

“Admirably done, Jade,” Carnelian commended her from his seat in the shadows. “A ruler should take his or her advisors’ opinions into consideration, but the final decision always rests with the crown.”

“It’s probably not what _you_ would have done,” she pointed out, feeling warm inside from the aftereffects of rare praise from a stern parent.

“Perhaps not; but then, neither might Queen Frysabel have done as I would, or the Sultan.” He smiled as he looked at her, his eyes wrinkling at the edges. “We each of us determine our own ways to rule, Jade. You will discovers yours, in time.”

It wasn’t all light skirmishes with easily-bested ministers, of course. Her fumbling of the steelworkers’ union negotiations managed to provoke _both_ sides of the dispute into a shouting match, and she once nearly misspoke her way into declaring war on Gondolia before the frantic scribe was able to bring it to her attention. Public speaking—so unnatural to her after a more than half a lifetime of concealment and anonymity—remained her one true bane; she tossed and turned for hours after her speech at a small state dinner, her face burning as she remembered every flubbed word and nervous cough.

But slowly and surely, after months of staying on the sidelines and guiltily wishing in her heart of hearts that her adventuring days could yet continue, the princess started to learn what it might actually mean to be _queen_.

 

* * *

 

Aside from her new administrative duties, there were innumerable other details for Jade to turn her attention toward—the most notable of which was finally selecting proper ladies-in-waiting after months of urging from her father. As she sat at her desk one rainy evening and turned a doleful eye on the staggering amount of paperwork collected during that first week alone, she was forced to concede the necessity of _some_ sort of outside assistance.

Jade leaned back in her chair, tapping a finger on her chin as she perused the list of potential candidates the steward had provided. It was full of noble daughters from prominent Heliodorian families—most of whom she’d met, some of whom she considered cordial acquaintances, and _none_ of whom she had the slightest bit in common with.

She tossed the list on the desk and sighed. Truthfully, she couldn’t see the need for the types of companions that her mother and Lady Eleanor had gathered around themselves. Years of hard travelling had made the princess almost entirely self-sufficient, and she chafed at the idea of constant attendants insisting on helping her with basic tasks. Now, if her ladies-in-waiting could equip her before an expedition, or offer themselves as sparring partners in a pinch...

Inspiration struck at once and she nearly knocked over her chair in her haste to speak to the guard outside the door.

Unfortunately for Jade, the brilliance of her idea was _somewhat_ less accepted by the candidates in question.

“You...you want _us_ to be ladies-in-waiting, Your Highness?”

Sergeant Mica’s voice was doubtful as she stood at attention beside Sergeant Galena in the princess’s bedchamber. The two women had responded promptly to her summons and were garbed in their basic uniforms with well-worn weapons at their sides, obviously having just come from the training grounds.

“I do,” Jade confirmed, trying to push past the sudden shrivelling of her confidence at this profoundly unenthusiastic response. “Is there some problem with that?”

“Well, we aren’t ladies, for one thing,” Mica pointed out diplomatically.

“And our duties in the barracks keep us quite busy most of the time,” Galena added, face strangely unreadable instead of her usual mild hostility.

“I don’t care about titles or any of that nonsense,” Jade said with an emphatic shake of her head. “And I don’t need someone constantly underfoot, either—just help with my correspondence at times, and training sessions, and...wardrobe, I suppose?”

Mica still seemed dubious, but Galena’s gaze was steady as she looked at her princess. “Is this really what you want, Your Highness?”

Jade gamely reached for a confident smile, but probably only got as high as ‘tentative’ in the end. “I think so,” she replied. “We can always try it for a little while and see how it goes. What do you say?”

The sergeants exchanged glances for a long moment and then turned back to her. “We’ll do it, Princess Jade,” Mica said, hand unconsciously dropping to the hilt of her sword.

“Wonderful!” Jade breathed, a sigh of relief threatening to spill out of her. She wasn’t sure what she would have done if they _had_ declined—gone on sabbatical to Lonalulu until the embarrassment started to fade, perhaps. “I look forward to...”

She found herself trailing off as Galena immediately marched over to the closet on the wall and threw the doors open.

“Now, first things first,” the sergeant said in a crisp voice as she pawed through the clothing inside. “Lace is _definitely_ on its way out, so we’ll have to replace at least half these blouses. And heels are up half an inch since last season—I’ll have to have some strong words with your cobbler tomorrow, especially since you just _got_ these shoes.”

She turned to her princess and pursed her lips as she looked her up and down with a critical eye. “I know you’ve been favouring red lately, Your Highness, but honestly? With your colouring, you really, _really_ shouldn’t be.”

Jade’s smile turned wan as she tried very hard to tamp down the regret abruptly welling up inside her.

 

* * *

 

There was much to learn, and she tried to keep busy from morning till night, bustling from meeting to negotiation to training with scarcely a break between. Her father applauded her work ethic and she accepted this praise silently, unable— _unwilling_ —to let slip a hint of the _real_ reason she strove for the exhaustion that collapsed her into bed each evening.

But she found that what she lacked in restless tossing and turning, she more than made up for in dreams: flashes of memory and fantasy mingling together, of silky hair and rough fingertips and shockingly soft lips; where the only words whispered were those pulled from the deepest longings of her heart.

When she awoke each dawn—a burning in her eyes, or her chest, or between her legs—she allowed herself only a moment of pause before she rolled over and got up, ready for the start of a new day.

 

* * *

 

“Remind me again why we’re out here?” Lieutenant Carver groused as he pulled his cloak more tightly about himself. Judging by his continued shivering, the gesture looked to be a futile one. Heliodor had finally seemed to remember the significance of the marching seasons, and a chill autumn wind blew mercilessly through the streets of the marketplace.

“We’re shopping,” Jade responded lightly, her own hooded fur cloak covering her protectively from head to toe.

“We’re _not_ ,” he countered with a dark look. “We’ve been walking around for almost an hour and you haven’t bought a single thing.”

“If I’d known you did so poorly in the cold, I’d have requested another escort,” she said with a roll of her eyes. In the hopes of settling the longstanding contention with her father once and for all, Jade had conceded to the accompaniment of _one_ soldier or guard—of her choosing—on her trips out of the castle. Aside from the dubious necessity of protection, she was beginning to realize the potential usefulness of having a trusted pair of eyes and hands along with her on her missions.

(And if there was another voice in the back of her head with its own whispered argument— _and when will you realize that you are now responsible for far more than yourself?_ —then she deliberately paid it no mind.)

“Well, you’re stuck with me now, Princess Jade,” Carver sighed. He looked around the sparsely-populated streets and then pointed to a nearby house. “Come on, let’s at least take a break for a minute from this wretched wind.”

Jade assented wordlessly and followed him. They stood in the temporary relief of the building’s leeward side in silence, blowing on their gloved hands for warmth.

“Really, though—why _are_ we here?” he asked after a minute, more curious this time than complaining. “You’ve certainly been talking to enough people.”

“I’m seeking out petitioners,” she explained while she adjusted her hood to more fully cover her numb ears. Despite her teasing of the man, it really _was_ miserably cold.

“Seeking out—isn’t that what the king holds audience for?” Carver glanced at her in some confusion.

“It’s what holding audience grants to _some_ people in the kingdom,” she replied. “The ones who know about it in the first place, or can even make it up to the castle. I want to start finding out how everyone _else_ is doing, too. It’s something Queen Marina advised me of when we last spoke.”

Jade smiled to herself, the memories of dozens of peculiar requests flashing through her head. “And honestly, you’d be amazed at the kinds of help people will ask for if you give them a listening ear.”

“I can only imagine,” her companion nodded agreeably. “It’s an interesting idea, Your Highness.”

“Don’t you think you earned the right to dispense with the formalities after a _literal_ trial by fire, Carver?” she asked with an arched brow.

“Oh, no,” the lieutenant said forcefully, holding his hands up and shaking his head. “I’ve flirted with potential imprisonment enough for _this_ lifetime, thank you very much. Sir Hendrik could probably hear a whispered ‘Jade’ in the dead of night a whole _continent_ away.”

Something in her chest twisted tightly at the sound of his name, dropped so unexpectedly into the light conversation. She quickly turned her head and stared out into the windblown street, swallowing hard around the sudden lump in her throat.

There was silence for some moments before Carver cleared his throat. “Princess,” he said hesitantly. “I’m sorry if I...caused some kind of problem between you and—”

“You didn’t,” Jade interrupted him. She turned back to the man and forced a smile. “Don’t worry about it, Lieutenant.”

“All right,” he nodded, still looking uncertain. Then he raised his head, obviously casting about for a change of subject. “The afternoon’s getting on. Should we continue?”

“That might be best,” she agreed, and into the windy streets they went once more.

They hadn’t walked far before a low crying noise caught Jade’s attention. She pulled back her hood and listened intently, trying to track down the source. It appeared to be coming from a nearby alleyway, and she turned and dashed down it without a second thought, Carver close at her heels.

At the end of the dim lane they found a woman huddling into a threadbare blanket, two young children in her arms crying piteously. They turned to the newcomers with dull eyes.

“Why are you out in this cold?” Jade asked urgently, dropping to her knees and pulling off her cloak so she could drape it over the group.

“Landlord raised the rents,” mumbled the woman, apparently not recognizing her princess as she shivered into the warmth of the fur covering. “Can’t afford it no more, not after my husband...after he...”

“But surely the landlord would make an exception if he knew of your circumstances,” Carver protested, his eyes wide as he took in the woeful scene.

The woman laughed harshly. “Oh, he knew. Didn’t stop him from tossing us out with nothing more than the skin on our backs when the money ran out.”

Jade felt a stinging in her vision, unable to look away from the faces of the helpless children. A memory intruded, of a cold night in a windswept street just like this, curled up against the old man beside her as she’d clutched both their cloaks around herself. He’d tried to soothe her with stories of old fairytales and legends, speaking in a cracked voice above her quiet tears.

“Who is your landlord?” Carver asked harshly. Jade looked up at him in warning, but he ignored her, a barely suppressed fury on his face.

“S-Sir Zircon,” the woman chattered, more from the cold than any real alarm at the lieutenant’s tone.

“Do you know him?” Jade asked Carver.

“I do,” he replied in a flinty voice. “A minor baronet who made his fortune in real estate.”

A grim smile came across his face and she saw his hand grip his sword hilt. “Although I’m not sure how much good that will do him after _I_ get through with him.”

“We can figure that part out later,” Jade said sharply, trying to haul the lieutenant from his fantasies of revenge—that she had to admit she strongly shared—back to reality. “For now, we need to get this family to shelter.”

Enclosed in both Jade’s cloak as well as Carver’s, they escorted the mother and her children to a nearby inn. Jade had a quick word with the innkeeper and received her profuse promises that they would have every comfort the establishment was capable of providing.

The children now dozed in their mother’s arms, the warmth of the room lulling them to sleepy contentment. The woman herself, however, streamed tears as she choked out her thanks to the two who had helped her.

Carver was unable to meet her eyes as he mumbled a bashful response to her gratitude. He hesitated when they turned to head up the stairs, and then pulled his coin purse off his belt and thrust it at the woman. When she looked inside, her mouth gaped open in shock.

“Keep it,” he insisted when she tried to hand it back. “Get something nice for your little ones, all right?”

She nodded at him, speechless. Jade was struck with a sense of wonder when she glanced at the lieutenant and found that the mother wasn’t the _only_ teary-eyed one in the interaction.

After the family had gone up to their room, the two stood together in the entryway of the inn, staring at the space they’d left behind.

“ _That’s_ why I need to come out here,” Jade said quietly. “There’s a lot broken in Heliodor—things I didn’t even know about—and I intend to fix them.”

Carver stayed silent for a longer continuous amount of time than the princess had ever thought him capable of, let alone experienced herself. He finally turned to her, a small smile on his face.

“You’re going to make an incredible queen someday, Jade,” he told her earnestly. “It’ll be an honour to serve you.”

Jade returned his smile, a rush of camaraderie going through her as she looked at the young man. Somehow, these past two weeks of difficult work were finally making her feel like she could have a _place_ here, more than all the months before them.

“Well, I’m not queen yet,” she replied in a steely voice, cracking her knuckles ominously, “so don’t you _dare_ go after Sir Zircon without letting me tag along, all right?”

“Deal,” Carver agreed with a dark grin.

 

* * *

 

There was one topic on which she knew she couldn’t bear to hear her father speak, but thankfully his pride in her new role had distracted him from the idea. No matter what her future, she was determined always to rule in her own right, as so many powerful women across Erdrea did. There was room for _one_ chair on the dais in the Heliodor throne room, and everything she was working toward was to make sure she could someday fill it with the wisdom and dignity it deserved.

She didn’t want to think about the space next to the throne on the landing, the shadow that stretched out long and silently each time she stood there on her father’s other side. So, she chose not to. Endure, learn from it, carry on.

 

* * *

 

Jade loitered by the main entrance in the Great Hall at the end of the third week, the setting sun casting patterns on the polished marble floor. She’d gotten word of an arrival at the city gates and had rushed down from her meeting with the chancellor only minutes before.

(Just in time, too; the woman was so pompously long-winded that Jade had almost excused herself under the pretext of an impromptu hair appointment, and had not been looking forward to the entire _evening_ it would take to dry her heavy tresses afterward.)

While she waited, Jade chatted with the guards on duty in the hall. She had mostly learned the names and faces of the castle guards and servants by now, and tried to make a point of talking with them whenever she could. One had had a baby with his wife only two weeks before, and he bashfully answered her demands for details with all the pride of a new father.

Soon the door swung ponderously open and she broke off her conversation, turning around eagerly.

“Jade, lass,” came a booming voice. “Couldnae even last a month before ye needed to see this handsome mug again, eh?”

Rab beamed at her as he ambled into the Great Hall, dressed in his usual travelling clothes with his rucksack on his back. The guards behind her made short bows as she approached her former guardian.

“It’s good to see you, Rab,” Jade said warmly, leaning down so he could enfold her in his surprisingly firm embrace. It still felt strange, in a way, to share in something so ordinary as a hug with the old man; neither of them were very demonstrative people, and their partings had been few and far between over the years.

He pulled back and made some show of looking her up and down, taking in her appearance with interest. She’d worn a dress that day: far plainer and simpler than the ballgowns in her wardrobe, but still quite a bit more ornate than her usual outfits on the road.

“ _Well_ now,” he said, his mustache curling up into a broad smile. “Ye're looking mighty fine and fancy-like these days, aren’t ye?”

“It’s because I don’t have to compete with _you_ anymore, showing me up in all your mustached glory,” she shot back instantly. “Who could ever stand a chance?”

“Too true, lassie,” he preened, stroking the facial adornment in question with two fingers. “It’s just as well ye’re finally getting yer chance to shine.”

Jade nodded a farewell to the guards, and then she and the older man walked through the hall toward the grand staircase.

“I asked for your usual room to be prepared, if that’s all right,” she told him.

“That’s just fine, lass,” Rab assured her. He hefted his pack further up on his shoulders. “Now what’s this I hear about ye stumbling upon ancient relics without yer auld pal Rab along to share in the fun?”

“We can talk about that at dinner.” She smiled. “I hope you brought your appetite—when the head cook heard you were coming, she immediately started making all your favourites.”

“Och! I always _knew_ she had a soft spot for me,” he exulted. “If I play my cards right, maybe there’ll even be room for a wee bit of dessert later on, eh?” His eyebrows wiggled suggestively.

Jade rolled her eyes as they stopped at the guest chamber along the balcony hall. “Oh, please. You’ll be making calf eyes at the scullery girls within minutes and spoil the whole thing.”

“Ye may have a point there,” Rab conceded, opening the door to his room. “Well, I’ll clean myself up a bit and meet you and yer father soon.”

The king’s private dining room was a far more boisterous place than usual with the addition of its royal guest that night. Both Carnelian and Rab were three glasses of wine deep by the middle of it, and sharing in old jests and memories with enthusiasm.

Jade smiled a bit wistfully to herself over her own mostly-full goblet. She so rarely got to see this side of her father, the jovial man behind the mask of the stern monarch and parent. Or perhaps it was the other way around? These happy occasions had become less and less frequent as her childhood recollections had grown clearer, and the result was a mixture of odd half-truths in her mind that she could not entirely trust.

“...remember, Jade?”

She jolted a bit and looked up to see her father and Rab gazing at her expectantly.

“I’m sorry—I was woolgathering,” she apologized, placing her glass back on the table. “What were you saying?”

“I was telling Robert about that time you filled all the salt cellars with sugar before a state dinner,” her father said, his beard shaking with mirth. “The steward found out only a half-hour before seating and barely managed to fix it in time. You were around six then, were you not?”

“Five, I think,” she replied, her lips quirking up again. “I remember not being able to eat a bite that whole dinner, I so dreaded the punishment awaiting me at the end.”

“I believe you got off rather more lightly than feared,” Carnelian chuckled. “Largely in thanks to your youthful accomplices, of course.”

He turned to Rab and gestured with his goblet. “There I was in my sitting room afterward, waiting to give my daughter the tongue-lashing of her life, when suddenly young Hendrik appeared at my door, asserting sole responsibility for the whole affair!”

The king’s eyes were filled with amusement as he spoke. “And a fine performance it would have been, too—if not for Jasper’s stumbling in seconds after him with that selfsame claim. Ah, the looks on their faces when they each realized what the other was attempting.”

“So what did ye do with the lads, Carnelian?” Rab asked with a smirk.

“Well, far be it from _me_ to deny any young man the opportunity for humble penitence. I ordered Hendrik to polish all the shields in the armoury and Jasper the swords, and graciously informed them that whosoever finished first would be allowed full credit for the prank, if it still pleased him to accept it.”

Rab slapped the table and roared with laughter. Jade, however, sat very still in her chair.

“I hadn’t known that part,” she said softly.

“Of a certainty,” her father smiled, looking at her with fondness. “No true knight in shining armour would ever wish his lady to feel remorse over his heroic defence of her reputation.”

She picked at her food over the rest of dinner, and could not even find diversion in Rab’s shameless flirting with the head cook when dessert was brought out. As soon as she’d swallowed a polite three forkfuls of blackberry tart, she pled weariness and asked to be excused early.

“When would ye like to leave for the Kingsbarrow tomorrow, lass?” Rab asked as she pushed back her chair and rose.

“Probably mid-morning, after I’m done chairing the council meeting,” she answered. “That should give us enough time to make it there before dark.”

“The royal council, eh?” Rab turned to his old friend. “I don’t mean to alarm ye, Carnelian, but yer daughter seems to have gone and grown up behind our very backs.”

“She has indeed, Robert,” her father agreed. “And I truly could not be prouder of her.”

Jade smiled and went over to give him a peck on the cheek before she left them to their lingering conversation.

She walked slowly through the lower hallways, in no particular hurry to return to her chambers despite the growing lateness of the hour. It wasn’t until she paused before a familiar set of wooden doors that she realized where her feet had been taking her all along. Before she could think the better of it, she reached for the handle and slipped inside.

Sir Hendrik’s quarters were cold and dark and she fumbled blindly for some moments before finding the sideboard and the box of matches she knew resided there. A puff of sulphur hit her nose and she blinked away the spots in her eyes as she tilted the match into a nearby candlestick.

Light obtained, she raised it and looked around the room. It was as austere as she remembered, with an orderliness that she could only partially credit to his maid. The bed was made with military precision and his spare weapons were stacked neatly in their rack along the far wall. His armour was missing from its customary place, presumably taken with him to Puerto Valor.

The guilt from her invasion of his privacy warred with a painful curiosity as Jade wandered about his quarters. She brushed light fingers over the tomes on his bookshelf—mostly military chronicles—and wondered which he had last picked out to read. She studied the pictures on the walls and tried to determine the ones he had chosen himself versus those gifted to him over the years. She even picked up the small towel folded beside his wash basin and breathed in deeply for a moment, overwhelmed by the sudden scent of his aftershave, before remembering herself and hurriedly putting it back, a flush creeping up her neck.

His correspondence table with its rolls of parchment she avoided, not willing to breach _that_ level of trust; but she did go over to his formal desk and idly spun the globe there, letting its quiet creaking fill the room. She was about to examine his weapons collection when a flash of white in the fireplace suddenly caught her attention.

Jade knelt down in front of the hearth and gingerly plucked the object out, trying to avoid getting any ashy residue on her clothes. It appeared to be a fragment of parchment, charred around the edges. On it was a tight, elegant script, doubtless formed from years of dutiful practice.

It said:

_To Her Royal Highness, Princess Jade of Heliodor,_

...and nothing more.

She stared at it a moment, her heart thumping in her chest. Then she lunged for the fireplace, heedless of the soot this time as she frantically sifted through the remains of whatever fire had breathed there last.

After some minutes of fruitless searching, she finally leaned back in defeat. Her blackened hands left dark fingerprints on the parchment scrap as she clutched it tightly and read it again and again, as if sheer force of will could somehow form the words she so desperately wished to see.

A droplet hit the paper; then another. Jade pulled her knees up to her chest and huddled in on herself as she finally—after three long, tiring, _aching_ weeks—allowed the tears to fall.

 

* * *

 

Princess Jade had known that any thorough study of the Kingsbarrow’s forgotten queens would likely take months of work and dozens of expeditions to accomplish. But somehow it was only when she was again standing in that lost tomb, the awesome weight of history upon her, that she truly _understood_ the enormousness of the task ahead.

“Not that I’m not flattered by yer faith in my abilities, lassie,” Rab remarked as he looked around the room, his mustache twitching interestedly, “but there’s many a fine scholarly sort in Heliodor too, ye know, and I think ye’ll need them to have any hope of getting through this before ye’re old and grey.”

“I know,” she answered, lifting her torch up higher as she squinted into the darkness. “Father’s already had several petitions from the university to start excavating the tomb. They’re quite eager to begin.”

She looked down at the old man, her face serious. “But...I wanted to keep it to myself for just a little longer. I think _I_ was chosen to find this place, and I wouldn’t want to offend whatever it was opened the way for me.”

“Aye, ye might have a point there,” Rab agreed. He stretched his arms above his head with a low grunt. “Well, no time like the present, eh, lass?”

They stayed inside the tomb until the sun outside, only just visible through the hole in the side of the structure, dipped below the horizon. Rab studied the sarcophagi and sketched some of the more obscure runes on his portable writing desk, while Jade focused on the slate tablets she’d found during her first visit. The weight of them alone precluded any real efforts to move them, so she made rubbings instead, carefully etching the engravings onto thin parchment with a piece of charcoal.

When night finally fell in earnest they packed up and left for the day. Jade wasn’t particularly worried about the _hostility_ of any possible spectres—the atmosphere of the place was far more contemplative than angry—but it never hurt to be cautious when dealing with the ghostly denizens of Erdrea.

Opal nickered at her when they returned to the campsite on the Emerald Coast, and Jade rubbed her down and offered her some oats before covering her with a blanket for the night. Rab’s borrowed horse, a brown gelding, tossed his head irritably when his temporary master attempted to give him a pat. Jade hid a smile at Rab’s scowl, comforted that she wasn’t the _only_ one who’d fallen thoroughly out of practice with mounted travel during their exile.

A sense of nostalgia overcame her as they automatically fell into their old roles in setting up camp for the night. Jade whipped up a quick supper over the fire while Rab put up the small tent she’d packed for the trip. Neither of them remarked upon the peculiarity of the circumstances; like so much of their relationship, the easy familiarity spoke for itself better than any words could have done.

Then, after a more satisfying meal than many they’d shared over the years, they turned to the rubbings she’d taken from the Kingsbarrow and started to read by the light of the campfire.

“Let’s see now,” Rab said, rifling through several pieces of parchment and squinting at them. “It’s hard to pinpoint exactly _when_ they built this place—the calendar’s changed a wee bit over the years—but near as I can tell, the tomb must’ve been lost somewhere around Erdwin’s time.”

“That long ago?” Jade asked in surprise. “That was after Heliodor’s founding, wasn’t it?”

“Aye, but the borders weren’t near as large back then as they are today, so it’s possible the Kingsbarrow wasnae even claimed by Heliodor yet. Records’re a bit murky on that score.”

“Well, the university can sort that part out,” Jade replied with a dismissive wave. “I’m far more interested in what there is to learn about the queens themselves.”

“I well know yer indifference to dates and figures, Jade,” Rab sighed. He held his hands up and looked to the sky in despair. “I just can’t seem to raise _any_ young lass to have a proper appreciation for the importance of history and the like.”

“Perhaps the blame should more be centred on the teacher than the student, then,” she said archly.

“And perhaps _ye’ll_ be needing my help to decipher some of these engravings,” he chuckled, “so why don’t we move on to the meat of it before ye’ve mortally offended yer only assistant, eh?”

The wind rustled through the tall grasses of the coast as Jade and her former guardian put their heads together to sort through their partial chronicle of the tomb’s occupants. Though often archaic, the writing was far easier to read than Jade had initially feared, and she was soon caught up in the tantalizing snippets of adventure and intrigue that could be found within the dry text.

“Here’s one ye’d like, lassie,” Rab spoke up as he gestured to his parchment. “A right warrior she seemed to be, expanding her rule nearly everywhere within the Inner Sea before she met her end at the hands of—och, looks to be her own _sister_.”

“Well, luckily I don’t have any of those.” Jade huffed a short laugh. “And I’m not sure that would be any worse than _this_ queen—she had fourteen children throughout her life. Fourteen! I honestly don’t know when she found the time to _think_ , let alone rule.”

“Aye, I believe I found that sarcophagus earlier,” Rab smirked, stroking his mustache. “The inscription of her last words read: ‘I ask thee not to mourn me, for I surely go to a far better rest in the next life, than in this one’.”

Jade scoffed. “That sounds about right.”

After a few more minutes of quiet perusal, she looked up, a nagging thought suddenly occurring to her. “Have you seen any mention of the golden gryphon that attacked me on my first visit?”

Rab shuffled his papers with a frown. “Not yet, lass. But if it happened as ye said, after putting the Orb back on the altar, then I bet ye shillings to shortbread that it was some kind of test for ye.”

“A test...” Jade murmured, looking off at the shoreline, her eyes lost in thought.

“Well, by all accounts, it’s been a right long time since a princess last showed up here, with a sacred artifact, no less. Maybe the auld queens simply wanted ye to prove yer mettle.”

A sinking feeling overtook her. “But...if it _was_ a test, then I didn’t pass it on my own. I don’t know if I _could_ have defeated it without Hen—” She paused, then deliberately cleared her throat before continuing: “Without help.”

“Do ye think none of these queens ever had help a time or two?” Rab asked, raising one bushy eyebrow at her. “Or that it doesnae mean something to inspire that kind of help in the first place?”

She turned her gaze back to the fire and said nothing. Her dinner sat uneasily in her stomach; she felt strangely mournful at the idea of not having lived up to the expectations of these women, who had come so long before her that even their final resting place had been lost to time.

“Jade,” Rab said, in a gentle voice she hadn’t heard in a long while. “What’s this all about, anyhow? I know it isnae _my_ influence that’s got ye fired up about history for once in yer life.”

A burst of memories overcame her, of countless dreary nights and silent tears. She had been here before in the past sixteen years: as a grief-stricken child, or a sullen teenager, or a woman who kept her fears so close to her chest that she sometimes could barely make them out herself. She had always told herself that he wouldn’t understand, or that it was pointless to talk about what couldn’t be changed; and over time, he had asked less and less, and she’d felt all the quiet relief of it.

But this time...maybe this time could be different. Maybe he was right about what he’d said about help. Maybe it was enough that she _wanted_ him to be.

“I think,” Jade said slowly, shoving through the barrier around the words, “that I’m finally realizing— _really_ realizing—that I’m going to be queen someday, Rab. It was easy to ignore all those years on the road, but...”

“But now ye’re home and it’s suddenly a real kick to yer backside,” Rab finished.

“Exactly.” Jade laughed humourlessly and wrapped her arms around her legs. “I haven’t had the slightest clue what I’ve been doing these past few weeks. It’s difficult not to feel like a complete fraud—or worse, a child, simply playing at being queen.”

She glanced down at the stack of parchment beside her. “My father says that every ruler does things their own way, but I don’t know how to figure out what my way is even supposed to _be_. So I thought that if I asked for enough advice and studied enough history...then maybe that answer would come to me.”

Jade looked back over at Rab. “But it doesn’t work like that, does it?”

The old man shook his head, his expression pensive as he stared into the fire. “No, lass, I’m afraid it doesnae work like that at all.”

He let out a short breath. ”Ye knew I was the youngest of three brothers, aye?”

“Yes,” she replied. “Lady Eleanor told me once.”

“Well, the truth of it was, I was woefully unprepared to be king,” Rab said, shaking his head ruefully. “I wasnae expecting to take the throne at all, with two heirs before me. But then there was the accident, and suddenly I had a crown on my head and a kingdom to run, without the foggiest idea how it was done.”

She rested her chin on her knees as she listened to him. A stray thought in the back of her mind wondered if he might have made a resolution of his _own_ , to open what they’d kept closed to each other for so long.

“I could’ve buried my nose in books about ruling—and did, a time or two,” he continued, “but for the most part I had to dive right in and take my mistakes as they came. It didnae do any good to worry about tomorrow when I had my hands full with today. And I tell ye truly, lass, that bit by bit, it all started to make sense.”

He smiled at her, his mustache curving. “Ye’re already doing what you ought to be, Jade, putting yerself out there so ye can fall flat on yer backside and learn from it, and ye’re gathering good people around ye to help pick yerself back up. The rest ye’ll figure out as ye go, whenever that day comes—hopefully many years from now.“

His smile turned crafty, then. “And if all else fails, ye’ve always got my training to fall back on when some stuffy minister needs a right good smack to make them see reason, eh?”

Jade was startled into a laugh. “Yes, I’ve already had a few meetings where that might have come in handy.”

“Now, that dinnae mean any of this is useless,” Rab said, gesturing at the sheafs of parchment lying between them, “and I’d be the last person to tell ye that. But ye’ll always be far better served following yer heart and yer gut than anything else, lassie, and ye’ve got some especially good ones underneath that fancy new wardrobe of yers.”

“My, you’re certainly getting maudlin in your dotage, Rab,” she teased, in an attempt to cover up the warmth of grateful fondness that was spreading through her.

“ _Dotage?_ ” he exclaimed in an indignant tone. He wagged a finger at her. “I’ll have ye know I could still run circles around ye during our morning exercises.”

She smirked and cracked her knuckles. “Challenge accepted—if we have time before we head over to see your grandson tomorrow.”

“Och, now _there’s_ a youngster who needs to get serious about ruling,” Rab grumbled as he stretched his legs out and leaned back on his elbows. “Dotage or not, I willnae be around forever, and I’d feel quite a bit more easy if I knew Dundrasil had a strong leader willing to step up.”

Jade smiled to herself. “He’s young yet, Rab. Let him figure things out. Lady Eleanor always said she never wanted her child forced into it.”

“Aye, Eleanor would’ve been a soft touch for her son—not that I could ever blame her for it,” Rab acknowledged with a sigh.

After a moment of hesitation, Jade finally summoned the courage to ask a question that had been on her mind for some time. She wasn’t worried about offending Rab, but she was always careful not to upset him with some subjects, even after the closure he’d been granted at the Ruins of Dundrasil.

“I always wondered...why didn’t Lady Eleanor take the throne for herself?” she asked the old man beside her.

She watched him think about that for a while, gazing steadily into the fire. The moon had risen high and she knew they would soon need to take to their beds, as reluctant as she was to break the spell of the strange, homey thing this evening had become.

“I dinnae think her ambitions ever ran along those lines,” Rab said at last. “She was as strong-willed and stubborn as her mother, but far more interested in focusing on her family than her country. When she married Irwin and he offered to take over from me, well—I think she finally found what she’d been looking for all along.”

“Are those to always be at odds, then?” Jade said softly. “Love and duty?” That now-familiar tightness in her chest had returned, squeezing her heart in on itself.

“No, lass,” he replied, so firmly that her eyes flew to his, surprised. There was compassion there, and something else—something that gave her a sneaking suspicion that he knew far more than he had been letting on.

“No, I dinnae rightly think so,” he continued. “I think someone with the will and the want to make it happen _can_ have both. And I cannae imagine that _anyone_ able to bring down nasty sorts like Mordegon or Calasmos could be lacking in either.”

Jade turned her head to rest her cheek on her knees. She felt like she ought to be embarrassed at her evident transparency, but was unable to muster anything but tiredness. “I hope you’re right, Rab.”

“Nearly always, lassie,” Rab assured her. He paused then, frowning. “And I willnae hear _anything_ about that trip to Hotto five years back, because I maintain that was far more the sauna owner’s fault than mine. Now, why in the heavens would I hide my _own_ clothes, I ask ye again?”

Her quiet laughter mingled with the crackles and pops from the fire, and the easy banter continued until they finally sought their beds.

 

* * *

 

It dawned grey but unthreatening the next day, a cool wind blowing in from the sea as they packed up the camp. They spent the bulk of the morning at the Kingsbarrow, continuing to collect sketches and rubbings for further study back home. Jade had promised her father that she would only take these two or three days for the trip and keenly felt the march of hours as they worked.

Eventually, just before noon, they packed up and made their way back down to the coast, where they loaded their supplies onto the horses and prepared for the ride to Cobblestone.

“How long would ye estimate the trip, lass?” Rab asked her as they finally got underway, trotting briskly down the path to warm up the horses. The old man had required a boost to get onto his mount, and his scowl as she’d helped him had very quickly told her _exactly_ where she could stick any of her sly observations.

“Only an hour or so from here,” Jade replied. She gave her companion a sideways glance. “Why did you never learn to Zoom? We could have saved a great deal of travelling time over the years.”

“Och, well, the only place to learn it is from the sages of Arboria,” he explained. “I didnae feel it was wise to go as near Yggdrasil as that, for fear of Mordegon’s spies.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “All right, but why do you _still_ not know? I’m sure Veronica or your grandson would teach you.”

“We each of us have our own strengths and weaknesses, lassie,” Rab said in an offended voice. “Do ye think I would waste my time with all this riding nonsense if I had a choice?”

As if in emphasis of his point, his horse suddenly tossed its head and the old man desperately clutched the reins as he swayed in the saddle, cursing at the animal. When he caught Jade’s amused look, he deliberately set his eyes forward with a huff.

“I think it’s well time we picked up the pace, lass,” he said with all the dignity of a former king. “Come on now, quick sharp!”

His horse started cantering down the road as its rider held on for dear life. With one last smirk, Jade thumped her heels into Opal’s sides and followed.

Cobblestone was its usual bustling self when they arrived. Jade had never been there before its destruction and subsequent revival, so she had only heard stories of the quiet, forgotten little town in the mountains, where a cow’s death was mourned with all the solemnity of a magistrate, and a strange visitor was prime gossip material for weeks afterward.

Now, things were altogether different. Once left off of all but the most exhaustive maps, Cobblestone had become a popular resting place for those not willing or able to make the trip from the Emerald Coast to Heliodor in one day. Tourism was likewise booming; people from all over Erdrea flocked to see the place where the Luminary had spent his childhood, and the Tor was filled with sightseers from dawn till dusk.

Jade and Rab dismounted at the entrance and led their horses to the stables at the southern edge of town. Villagers called out to her as they went and she waved back with a smile. Here, at least, she could be known for something _other_ than her royal status or as one of the saviours of the world. It had been her quiet little escape these past few months, to be able to lose herself in the simple domesticity of being a friend, or near-sister, or honorary daughter. After so many years of anonymity and disguises, these commonplace descriptors were more precious to her than any title could ever be.

“Och, I feel like I can smell Amber’s freshly-baked bread already,” Rab enthused after they’d handed their horses off to the young girl in charge of the stables.

“At least say hello properly this time before you’re at her table with a spoon in hand,” Jade chided him.

Rab shook his head pityingly at her. “Someday ye’ll understand that nothing pleases a woman of a certain age more than knowing she can fill a belly to satisfaction, lassie.”

“I _understand_ that you’ll be chased out of her house with a ladle at your backside if she ever overhears you calling her a ‘woman of a certain age’.” Jade tossed back.

They argued pleasantly until they reached Amber’s house on the hilltop. Several of Sandy’s puppies frolicked in the yard outside and yipped excitedly at their arrival. True to Rab’s prediction, there _was_ the smell of bread in the air, and Jade’s mouth started watering as the scent of it wafted under her nose. Dubiously heated trail rations were no match for homey cooking made with this degree of skill, and she determined to spend at least a bit of time this visit picking up more tips to take back with her to the castle kitchens.

Just before she could reach for the handle to the front door, it opened up before her, and she was face to face with Erik.

The young man started when he saw them. “Jade? Rab? What are you guys doing here?”

Jade blinked. “We could ask you the same. Aren’t you supposed to be in Sniflheim?”

“I _was_ , but that was before—” Erik broke off suddenly. “Amber’ll have my hide if we leave the door open like this. Why don’t you come on in?”

He waved them inside with an impressive display of manners, not always the most reliable at the best of times. As they stepped into the house, Jade immediately spotted a steaming loaf of bread on the table as well as something interesting bubbling in a pot on the stovetop.

Jade and Erik sat down at the table while Rab bustled about the kitchen looking for a bread knife.

“Anyway,” Erik continued, “I was in Sniflheim, but then a couple weeks back I took Mia to enroll at the Academy. You remember me talking about that, right?”

“Of course,” Jade said, eyeing Rab’s surreptitious pilfering of various other goodies as he rummaged around. “She agreed to it, then?”

“Not at first,” Erik replied with a grimace, rubbing the back of his neck. “There was a lot of ‘Why do I have to go to some boring school with a bunch of stuck-up rich kids?’ for a few days after I brought it up.”

He shrugged. “But then I showed her the uniforms they wore _and_ talked about all the shiny mini medals they’d teach her to find, and she started singing a different tune.”

“I’m sure it’ll be good for her,” Jade smiled. “She’ll get to spend time with girls her own age.”

“Yeah, probably better than tromping around all day with an old thief like me,” he agreed. “Besides, the twins said they’d be doing some lecturing there for a while, and I’m even willing to be grateful to _Veronica_ if it means Mia has a familiar face or two around.”

Rab finally procured a knife and came to the table. “Well, it’s good to see you again, lad,” he said as he eagerly started cutting into the bread, his mustache twitching excitedly. “Are ye here to visit my grandson, then?”

Erik’s expression turned overly casual as he leaned back in his chair. “Sure. I mean, once I got Mia off safely, I thought: ‘Well, why not?’ It’d been a while since I last saw him, and I figured it would give me a chance to catch some fish while I was at it.”

“Fish?” Jade asked with amusement.

“Yeah. The fishing’s good around here.” Erik met her gaze almost challengingly, as if daring her to say something. “There’s all these mountain lakes and streams and...you know, fish places like that.”

She opened her mouth, about to ask where the others were, when suddenly the front door banged open. Jade and Erik were out of their seats in a flash. Her hands uselessly grabbed at her belt for the claws she’d left in her pack, while Erik had procured a hidden knife from somewhere.

Rab spoke first, around a mouthful of bread. “ _Veronica?_ Crivens, lassie, whatever has happened to ye?”

The sorceress stood in the doorway with one hand still outstretched. She was breathing heavily, and Jade noted with alarm that her dress was covered in scorchmarks and soot.

“Dragons—at the Academy—” Veronica panted out. “I’m here to get—the Luminary—”

“The _Academy?_ ” Erik cried, his face going white as his grip on his knife tightened. “But Mia—”

“She’s fine,” the sorceress reassured him. “Serena’s got a handle on the students. But we need help, and fast!”

“Of course we’ll come!” Jade declared instantly. Her blood was already thrumming with the anticipation of battle and she stretched out her fingers reflexively.

Rab stood up, a decisive look on his face. “Do ye know where my grandson is, Erik?” he asked the young man.

Erik nodded sharply. “He went out with Amber and Gemma to the gardens.”

“Right,” the old man said. “Fetch him and get yer equipment together, then have him take ye both to the Academy. Jade and I’ll go with Veronica to the stables so we can grab our weapons, and we’ll all meet up at the entrance.”

Without another word, Erik was pushing past Veronica and running out the door. Jade rushed up to the sorceress in concern. “Are you hurt, Veronica? Rab can heal you if you need it—”

“No, I’m all right,” the girl replied as Rab joined them, and they quickly set out for the stables. Veronica seemed to have caught her breath by then and gamely managed to keep up with them. They soon ran into a group of particularly obnoxious tourists blocking one of the paths and were forced to wait for the way to clear before continuing.

“Where in the heavens did _dragons_ pop out from?” Rab asked the sorceress during the pause.

“Some students were on a field trip to the Eerie Eyrie a week ago and disturbed a nest at the top,” she said with a scowl. “They tried to leave her in peace, but you know how dragons are. It wasn’t such a big deal when it was just the mother to fend off, but apparently the eggs have hatched and now she’s set them on the place!”

She shook her head with a jiggling of her cap. “I thought we had it under control at first, but they just keep coming! We certainly wouldn’t have been able to hold them off long enough to get help if Sylvando and Hendrik hadn’t arrived when they did.”

Jade’s thudding heart skipped a beat—and then several more. “Hendrik’s there?” she asked breathlessly, suddenly feeling like the wind had been knocked out of her.

“Yes,” Veronica confirmed, shuffling from one foot to another in her impatience to get going again. “The headmaster wrote to Don Rodrigo about the dragon and he sent the two of them to come help. Lucky for us they made it just as the baby dragons started their assault.”

There was a break in the crowd and the girl darted forward. “Let’s go!”

Jade felt almost detached from herself as she followed the others to the stables and pulled her equipment from her saddlebags. There was no doubt it was a dire situation, but all she could think about was her eagerness—and dread—of the impending reunion, thrust upon her so unexpectedly. Despite her strict efforts, she had imagined the moment a thousand times over in the past three weeks, but never like _this_. Would he be there as soon as they Zoomed? Would he see her, acknowledge her in some way? Would there be worry in his eyes, or anger for having disregarded her own safety once more?

She took a deep breath to steady herself as she strapped her claws to her belt. First, deal with the dragons; then, frustrating knights who clung to her and gazed deeply at her and yelled at her and fought with her and kissed her so thoroughly that there were stars in her eyes and a song in her heart and a delicious ache in her—

“Ready, Jade?” Rab broke into her racing thoughts. She jerked the last strap tight and nodded, turning to join him and the sorceress. But at the last second she hesitated, and then reached back to grab the satchel with all her spare herbs and potions. Doubtless the others would have their own supplies, but she had learned a hard lesson last time after getting trapped in the Kingsbarrow without even a Medicinal Herb to her name.

Jade joined Rab and Veronica beside the stable. The sorceress gave them each a questioning look before she raised her soot-blackened hands and the world spun around itself.

 

* * *

 

The smoke filled her eyes and lungs before her vision had even cleared from the aftereffects of the spell. Jade immediately doubled over in a coughing fit and frantically tried to scrub the stinging tears away. She felt Rab thumping her back for some moments before she held up a hand and righted herself.

Her eyes opened to a horrific scene. They were in the woods by the entrance to the Academy, and she could immediately see dozens of trees on fire, dark smoke billowing up to the sky. The only way she could tell the direction of the entrance itself was from the shouts coming at a distance. High up above them, winged forms circled the site and puffs of flame burst from their mouths.

(That it somehow seemed so _familiar_ , the sight of the world she knew consumed by flame and smoke and monsters, was not a thought she was at leisure to examine.)

Jade ran toward the direction of the cries, the others close behind her. She burst through the front gate and then stumbled to a stop when she beheld the state of the Academy and its grounds. Her gaze wasn’t captured by the rooftop fires, or the students rallying to carry buckets of water, or the distant figures battling the fierce beasts; but the beautiful flower gardens, which her mother had painstakingly spent so much of her time tending to as a student. They were all but trampled and ripped apart, flames licking up over the colourful blooms, and the sight nearly broke her heart in two.

“Rab? _Jade?_ I don’t know where _you_ darlings came from, but _oh_ am I ever glad to see you!”

She whirled around to see Sylvando running up to them. He bent over to catch his breath and she noted his dented shield and well-used sword.

“What’s been going on?” Veronica demanded. “It took longer than I wanted to gather everybody.”

The tall man made a dramatic gesture—probably unconsciously done—toward the Academy building. “Every time I think we’ve got a handle on these pesky critters, they just keep coming back for more! I don’t know _what_ Mama Dragon told them, but they don’t seem to want to stop until the whole _place_ is burned down!”

“Well, let’s not just stand here,” Rab declared, brandishing his staff before him. “The wee lasses of this school deserve more than to have it burnt to a crisp before their eyes, eh?”

He and Veronica ran off into battle, but Jade hesitated. After the initial shock had faded, she’d been desperately searching the grounds for a figure so large he couldn’t _possibly_ be missed—but he was nowhere to be seen. She turned to Sylvando.

“Where’s Hendrik?” she asked urgently. This hadn’t been in any of her desperate imaginings at all, the fact that he simply wasn’t _here_ —

“I was about to tell you, honey,” Sylvando said, an uncharacteristic gravity in his voice. “He decided to go after the mother dragon himself to see if that would draw her little ones’ attention. I tried to stop him, but the baby dragons started another assault and ooh, I just couldn’t get away!”

“By _himself?_ ” she exclaimed with a sharp intake of breath. “How long has he been gone?”

“Long enough that I’m getting worried,” was the man’s entirely un-reassuring reply. “We tied our horses up just outside, so I think he must have taken Obsidian to get there, but—Jade, wait!”

She sprinted back out through the entrance, guarding her face against the smoke with her arms. There was no room for thought or doubt, only a terrible urgency squeezing her chest as her boots pounded on the dirt path.

Not far outside the wreckage, Jade found Sylvando’s wide-eyed stallion tied to a tree. The horse tossed his head and reared as she approached, obviously terrified out of his mind, but she held her hands out and made soothing noises, just as she’d seen Hendrik do that night on the Emerald Coast. The memory sent a fresh wave of panic coursing through her but she mercilessly shoved it back down.

To her great relief, the horse settled enough to let her come up beside him, though he still trembled in fear. She laid one reassuring hand on his back and then untied the reins from the tree. With a deep breath to steel herself, she grabbed onto the saddle and hoisted herself up in one smooth motion.

The stallion did not buck or try to throw her; Jade let the breath out at once. No time to lose, now—she thumped her heels into the mount’s sides and shook the reins, and they were off.

She galloped through the Champs Sauvage as fast as the horse could take her. In a dizzying stroke of luck, she saw that new bridges had been constructed to avoid the perilously narrow pathways of the rocky terrain. There was not even a hint of bird or animal as she rode, only the cries of dragons high in the air above her.

When she finally reached the entrance to the Eerie Eyrie, a familiar horse awaited her. Obsidian looked up as she reined in her stallion, so suddenly that he reared and kicked at the air. She slid out of the saddle and rushed over to the large black mount.

“Obsidian!” she cried, stroking his neck with shaking fingers. “Oh, I’m so glad to see you. Where is your master?”

The horse studied her a moment and then turned his gaze upward. Her eyes followed, and then her heart thumped painfully for an altogether _new_ reason as a realization came upon her.

From her earliest childhood memories, Jade had always been afraid of heights. She’d never been able to determine the origin of it, and any attempts she’d made to overcome her anxieties over the years had met with middling success. Rab had tried once (and only once) to cure her with a profoundly ill-advised attempt involving a tree overhanging a pond; the bruises from her panicked reaction _and_ resulting fury had quickly demonstrated to him the wisdom of letting the princess deal with any and all irrational fears using her _own_ methods.

When she’d first visited the Eerie Eyrie—what seemed almost a lifetime ago now—it had been with the entire party. That had helped, somehow, to always have someone above and below her as they traversed the precipitous cliffs and inched across rocky paths. Like so many things, just the presence of supportive friends along the way made any endeavour easier.

But now, staring at the dangling rope that marked the only known entrance to the place, Jade swallowed hard. In her desperation to get here as quickly as possible, she’d overlooked the reality of what she’d actually need to _do_ to get to the peak where the dragon’s nest lay. Just the thought of the many cliffs she would have to scale almost had her turning back to her horse and retreating, with the hope that one of her companions would be free to Zoom her there instead.

Her feet twitched, unconsciously ready to put the plan in motion, and this brought her up short. No—she was a Princess of Heliodor, the blood of countless queens thrumming in her veins. She had seen only a glimpse of the history contained in that tomb, but she knew that regardless of their accomplishments—warrior, adventurer, mother, scholar—those women had been indomitability made flesh, and had chosen _her_ to bring their stories to the light of the world again.

What’s more, she was doing this for a knight so brave and steadfast that he would never back down in her place. Even if he had to fight his way through an entire _army_ of insects—an irrational fear of his own that she’d long teased him about—he would do so without hesitation for the sake of his comrades.

Or his princess.

Jade bent down to grab a fistful of dirt, rubbing it between her gloved hands and shaking off the excess. She looked at the horses, who stared at her unblinkingly.

“I’ll be back soon,” she told them. Normally her clumsy attempts at communication with horses left her feeling foolish, but Obsidian’s decisive snort and headshake was strangely reassuring.

Then she faced the rope in front of her. Jade took in a deep breath, adjusted the satchel on her back, and started to climb.

She quickly found that it was _much_ easier when she kept her gaze focused on the sky above rather than downward. Her regular training over the past few months had kept her fit enough to ascend the rope more speedily than she’d feared, and she focused on the strength in her hands and legs rather than the pounding of her own heartbeat in her ears.

After what must have been only minutes—but felt an eternity—Jade was hauling herself over the edge of the cliff into the cavern beyond. She collapsed onto the ground and panted, though more from the stress or exertion, she couldn’t tell.

In a moment, she rolled back over and got up, walking with shaking legs to the river nearby. She splashed cool water on her face and rubbed vigorously. Then she turned resolute eyes toward the Eyrie proper, its rocky cliffs looming ominously in the distance.

One rope down, several more to go. Jade squared her shoulders, affixed an achingly familiar face firmly in her mind, and continued onward.

 

* * *

 

By some miracle, she managed _not_ to get lost as she went, though she lacked any form of map. The students at the Academy had obviously been here several times before their unfortunate encounter with the dragon, for there were new ropes and signposts scattered along the way to help guide her.

There wasn’t a hint of any monsters left in the Eyrie since Calasmos’s fall. Even the cries of the dragons were faint here, most of them apparently having committed to their attack on the school. She did see nests scattered about as she climbed, but they were small enough to belong only to ordinary birds.

It was mid-afternoon by the time she scaled the last rope and reached the highest level of the Eerie Eyrie. She’d had to pace herself along the way, not wanting to provoke exhaustion, but now a terrible impatience overtook her. All that was left between her and the peak—and whatever awaited her there—was rocky terrain and short climbs, and she had not a second to lose.

Jade raced through the small valley with a burst of renewed energy and reached the cavern in no time at all. She hoisted herself up the chest-high rocks one by one, her pulse racing in her chest.

Before she scaled the last, however, she paused, some instinct flaring a warning at her. A moment later, she heard a rumbling sound that shook the pebbles beneath her feet, and a huff of breath from some enormous body. Cautiously, she placed firm hands on the edge of the rock in front of her and boosted herself up to peer over the top.

She saw the dragon immediately. It had made its nest in the precise centre of the summit and shifted restlessly where it lay atop the large mass of branches and grass. It was honestly one of the uglier specimens she’d ever seen, dark green and covered in dull scales and fearsome spikes. Its wings were folded up on its back and its yellow eyes continuously scanned the area, flitting about suspiciously.

As she watched, the dragon shuffled itself up into a sitting position and let out an ear-shattering bellow. Far in the distance, there came answering cries, presumably from its children.

Jade dropped back down before it caught sight of her. Far _more_ important than the dragon, was that she’d seen no sign of Hendrik anywhere. She frantically wondered if she had somehow missed him along the way, or if some accident had befallen him trying to traverse the precarious landscape. He might even have taken a different route altogether, and she would need to retrace her steps and seek out alternate paths to search for some trace of him.

Suddenly, the thought that there might be nothing left of him _to_ see occurred to her, and her heart froze in her chest.

She shook her head once, then again, not able to— _refusing_ to—accept the possibility of such a horrific idea. No, it couldn’t possibly be true; not for the mightiest knight who had ever lived, not for the bravest, most loyal man she’d ever known, not when things had been left so agonizingly unresolved between them, not before she’d had a chance to tell him—tell him—

Her breath coming in quick gasps, Jade pulled herself back up over the edge of the ledge and redoubled her efforts to scan the area. An awful burning sensation was filling her eyes but she ignored it, focusing on her desperate examination of every last detail of the scene before her.

Just when she had almost given up, her stomach leaden within her, she saw it: a scrap of black and red fabric caught on a tree growing out of the cliff face. As her eyes followed it up further, she saw another, stuck on a rock right outside what _might_ just be a crevice large enough for a person to squeeze through—even one who had far more business classifying himself as some type of diminutive mountain than a man.

A delirious hope surged through her and she nearly boosted herself up right then and there to chase after the glorious possibility. But then the dragon let out another rumble and her gaze swivelled back to it, reality crashing in once more. There was no possible way for her to reach the crevice without the dragon spotting her, and she knew she would stand no chance in a one-on-one fight with the creature.

Jade ground her teeth against themselves, wanting to scream in sheer, frustrated impatience. If Hendrik _was_ in there—possibly badly wounded—then there might be no time to lose; certainly not enough to go back to the others and enlist their help. What she could do by herself against a _dragon_ , though, so much more powerful than her in every way—

A sudden flash, of two people sitting in a quiet courtyard underneath the stars:

_“Your speed is your greatest strength,” he had said, in that voice that automatically made her want to sigh and roll her eyes. “You gave up too much control over the flow of battle. Redirect your opponent at all costs before he corners you.”_

_She had seen his point, but still could not help teasing him in her answer, chasing the thrill of that breathless moment when he’d had her pinned against the wall, his body pressed against hers. Had she realized it, then? Or was realization to come later, after a_ thousand _such moments, each one adding up to a single truth that could no longer be denied?_

It was a mad, ridiculous, utterly _foolish_ idea. But Jade had felt many mad, ridiculous, foolish things these past few months, and had acted on far too few of them. It seemed appropriate, then, that _this_ one might be her only shot at reuniting with the person who had inspired such wondrous insanity in the first place.

She scrambled up on top of the rock before she could think better of it and stood at the edge, her back straight and her gaze clear. The dragon’s eyes immediately snapped to her and widened in outrage. It rose again in the nest, its muscles bunching ominously, and she felt a tremor of fear to be the focus of such impending danger. But there was no going back now; only facing the threat before her with all the courage she owed to her knight—and herself.

Jade took in a deep breath, narrowed her eyes in concentration, and unleashed the most decisive Puff-Puff of her life.

It slammed into the dragon with a shower of pink hearts. The beast reared back in its nest and its head lolled, entirely in a daze. It might have been a trick of the light, but the dragon almost seemed to have a smile on its face as its limbs helplessly clawed at the broken branches and grass beneath it.

Jade knew she had only minutes before the dragon would regain its senses. She raced over to the rocky wall and leapt high to grab hold of the tree with its scrap of cloth. She pulled herself up and balanced on the trunk as her fingers scrambled to find handholds in the rock. They caught purchase and she hauled herself upward as quickly as possible, listening intently to the dizzy grunts of the dragon below her. When she reached the entrance to the crevice moments later, she threw herself inside, eager to get out of range before the beast came back to itself.

The crevice appeared to lead into a small passageway, a natural formation carved more years ago than she could imagine. The darkness was blinding to her after the afternoon sunshine of the Eyrie and she stumbled ahead, tripping on the rocky floor and blinking rapidly, willing her eyes to adjust.

She finally came to a halt when she reached what seemed to be a small cavern at the end, panting from the exertion. Shafts of light lit the dim space from scattered holes in the roof above and all was silence, except for the dripping of some unknown source of water.

Then, a shocked voice from several feet away: “ _Princess?_ ”

Jade whipped around, squinting eagerly in the direction it had come from. After a moment, she was able to make out the form of a man sitting propped up against the cavern wall, sword and shield beside him. Even from here she could see that his eyes were impossibly wide, looking at her as though he could not believe his own senses.

“Hendrik!” She rushed forward and dropped to her knees at his side, her gaze frantically roving up and down his body. She saw the ungloved hand he had pressed against the blackened side of his mail shirt, the deep rendings in his armour, the paleness of his face; there were beads of sweat on his forehead and his mouth was contorted with pain. Still, he stared at her with a disbelieving awe that sent a coil of warmth down her spine.

“Princess, how...how came you to be here?” Hendrik asked in a strained voice. “Is this...some fevered vision?”

“No—no vision,” Jade assured him breathlessly, not sure whether she wanted more to cry or laugh and winding up somewhere in between. “Sylvando told me you went to fight the dragon yourself, and I came after you.”

“But how did—” He cut himself off with a sharp hiss and her hands went at once to his arms, his neck, his face, stroking his clammy skin with gentle fingers.

“Hendrik, you’re hurt! Why have you not healed yourself?” she demanded worriedly.

“The dragon is...a far more fearsome foe than I had anticipated,” he said, closing his eyes with a grimace. “I had thought to vanquish her and end the assault on the school, but she...scored an unlucky blow and I barely escaped with my life. My magic had run out over the course of the battle, and so...”

He fell silent again, breath escaping through his lips in short gasps. Her fingers tightened against his face, her mind caught in a panic, before she finally remembered her satchel.

Jade shrugged the bag off her back and tore it open, her hands desperately searching through its contents. She didn’t keep it as well-equipped as she used to—most of her problems these days comprising small scrapes and bruises—but she had half a dozen Strong Medicines and several Sage’s Elixirs at hand. They would have to do.

She carefully pulled his hand away from the wound in his side and her heart twisted to see the extent of the damage there. Hendrik grunted as the effects of the medicine hit him, his eyes fluttering back open. She used a second herb, then a third, and the skin slowly pulled itself back together and healed before her very eyes.

“That is enough for the moment,” he said when she raised another, letting out a great sigh as he pushed at the ground and sat up more firmly against the wall. She leaned back on her heels and watched him, hungrily taking in every shift of his jaw and tremor of his mouth and furrow of his brow as he came back to himself.

“I am in your debt,” he told her quietly, his gaze lifting to hers. “I fear I would not have survived had you not come for me.”

“Sir Hendrik, Hero of Heliodor, vanquished by a mere dragon?” Jade scoffed, a bit shakily. She felt almost dizzy with relief, unable to tear her eyes away from his face. “I shouldn’t think so. The beast struck a once-in-a-lifetime hit, that’s all. It should try playing the casinos sometime.”

To her delighted surprise, he huffed a short laugh at that. He had just opened his mouth to respond when they were interrupted by another roaring bellow outside. Their heads jerked toward the direction of the entrance as the sound echoed its way into the cavern and bounced off the walls.

Hendrik turned back to her, face grave once more. “I believe the beast instructs its children with such cries. They will not stop the assault against the Academy as long as it draws breath.”

“Then someone should probably do something about that,” she declared, grabbing her claws from her belt and starting to strap them on. “All our friends are fighting there right now, and I think they could use some help.”

“Princess...” A strange timbre in his voice brought her eyes up to his again. His gaze was grim as he looked at her, and she saw his throat bob in a harsh swallow.

“My performance this day may have left you with some doubts as to my capability,” Hendrik said tightly. “I fully understand if you should think me a liability in the coming fight and prefer to face the beast alone. I would ask, however, that I be allowed to lend such support as I am able to provide, in furtherance of your efforts to defeat the foul creature.”

Jade stared at him for a moment, her mouth slightly agape. He was pained nobility personified, _clearly_ expecting her to charge off into battle with or without his help, heedless of the dangers. But rather than forbid her or lecture her or fret over her safety, he instead offered himself up in whatever role she deemed suitable, determined only to be useful to her.

Whatever had happened these past few weeks, she apparently hadn’t been the _only_ one learning a few uncomfortable lessons along the way.

She got to her feet and tossed the satchel at him. He caught it in one hand and looked up at her in surprise.

“There are a few elixirs in there to replenish your magic,” she told him. “I don’t think you’ll be able to take the full brunt of the attack this time, so we’re going to have to be careful and watch each other’s backs. Is your equipment still in good condition?”

Hendrik slowly rose beside her. “I believe so, Your Highness,” he said, confusion on his face.

“All right. I’ll wait for you to get ready before we go.” She smiled at him, the first truly genuine smile she’d felt in weeks. “After all, what good is a princess without her knight?”

Jade turned away from his poleaxed expression and finished tightening her claws and checking over her own equipment. By the time she was done he was picking up his sword and shield off the floor and giving her a tight nod as he held out the satchel to her. Their fingers brushed against each other when she took it, and one quick glance at his face confirmed that it was no more an accident on his part than on hers.

So much unsaid, so much undone. But that would all have to wait until _after_ they’d saved their friends, as well as the school her mother had loved so dearly.

They made their way back through the passageway and to the entrance of the crevice, blinking and shielding their eyes against the sun.

“She apparently hadn’t noticed where I’d gone,” Jade said in a low voice as they looked down at the dragon, still in its nest and irritably puffing smoke from its mouth.

Hendrik nodded beside her. “She is not the cleverest beast, but she is formidable. It would be best to divide her attention between ourselves in order to cause confusion. I will also endeavour to keep us both shielded throughout the battle.”

“Sounds like a plan.” She glanced up at him, taking in his profile as he gazed downward with that stern resolve so achingly familiar to her. Her heart raced within her breast for a thousand different reasons, and she knew that this was a moment in time she would not ever choose to turn back, not for anything.

As she braced herself to leap down and start the attack, his voice stopped her.

“Good luck, Princess,” he said quietly.

After a moment, she nodded. “Same to you, Hendrik.”

Honestly, though, she didn’t need luck; she had _him_.

 

* * *

 

It began almost as soon as their boots hit the rocky ground, his heavier thud an echo to hers. Jade was already racing around to the other side of the nest even as the dragon spotted them and reared up in furious surprise. It looked this way and that, unsure which human to target first, and she felt a surge of hope that their strategy might prove even more effective than they’d thought.

A hope dashed completely when the dragon uncurled its heavily spiked tail from underneath itself and sent it whipping straight toward Jade. She barely managed to dodge the massive appendage as it slammed into a boulder by the edge of the cliff, knocking it over the side and to the ground far below.

“Hendrik!” she cried, trying to get his attention as the beast roared and slashed at his shield. “It won’t work! She can attack us from both sides!”

The knight’s head jerked up and she saw him assess the situation at a glance. He quickly raised his shield again to block a blow before shouting at her: “To me, Princess!”

Jade attempted to run back around the nest but the dragon’s tail slashed wildly through the air, forcing her to retreat back toward the cliff’s edge. As she made another nimble evasion and the tail tore a nearby tree in half, she looked back in horror to see herself mere feet from the awful emptiness of the open air beyond the summit. If she were pushed any farther...

There was a flash from the other side of the nest and she knew that Hendrik was magically drawing the monster’s attention toward himself. Its tail rose high into the air as it redoubled its efforts against the knight and Jade wasted no time in scrambling to get away from the edge, relief coursing through her when she reached a safe distance.

She had no time to rest, though, because the longer Hendrik remained the focus of the dragon’s assault, the more danger he was in. She sprinted back toward him, ducking under one of the beast’s half-open wings on her way.

Hendrik was bearing up as well as could be expected, but she could see the wince on his face with every blocked attack.

“We need a new plan,” she panted at him. Her claws were at the ready, but only the heavily-scaled limbs of the dragon were within her reach. She scanned the beast desperately, trying to determine its likely weak points.

“I can hold the beast off for a time yet, Princess,” Hendrik gritted out beside her. “While I have her attention, attack the stomach area—it may be less fortified than the rest.”

Jade was about to protest, the image of him pale and gasping at the forefront of her mind, but then shut her mouth. He had placed his trust in her despite the dangers, and she owed him nothing less than the same. She nodded instead, and he immediately drew back in an attempt to pull the dragon further from its nest and expose itself to her piercing claws.

The beast mercifully took the bait, rising up on its solid limbs and thumping intimidatingly toward Hendrik. Jade leapt forward at the first chance she got, the clang of talon meeting shield ringing in her ears like some discordant bell.

It was dark and hot underneath the dragon’s massive form as she zig-zagged between its legs to reach its belly. She unleashed a devastating three-hit attack at what she hoped was its most vulnerable place, but it still barely seemed to leave a scratch on the tough scales. Another try, and another, before she was forced to give up on the attempt.

Behind her, Jade heard Hendrik let out a harsh cry. She whirled in place, frantically dashing out from underneath the dragon to the cool air of the summit once more. The knight was still standing, but had sustained a wound on his sword arm and was starting to sag with each raise of his shield.

“Hendrik, you need to heal!” she yelled at him. “Drop the Forbearance and I’ll distract it!”

She could see the same worries flash across his face as must have gone over hers. He raised no objections, however, and instead brandished his shield toward her.

“For your protection, Princess,” he told her, his breath coming in short.

Jade dashed to his side and grabbed the shield just as his spell lapsed. She grunted at the unaccustomed weight of it, and for one absurd moment marvelled at his strength that he’d been able to throw it around with seemingly no effort at all. She mentally shook herself and turned to face the dragon.

“Let’s see what you’ve got, hm?” she challenged it.

The beast’s head followed her as she ran to one side, luring it away from the flagging knight. It raised one hideous claw and she quickly brought up the shield and braced herself for the attack, a tremor of excited fear racing through her.

At the last second, though, it changed its mind and returned to Hendrik just as the knight was preparing to cast his spell. Jade watched helplessly as a savage slash took him completely off-guard and he was knocked to the ground, his sword clattering several feet away. Utterly defenceless, he could only raise his arms to shield himself as the dragon took in a deep breath and bunched itself up ominously.

“ _Don’t you dare!_ ” Jade screamed. If she had stopped to think, her mind would have completely seized over with the desperate terror that filled her from head to toe. So she didn’t think—she moved.

Just as the dragon opened its mouth and let out the first burst of searing fire, Jade skidded to the ground before Hendrik, clutching the shield in front of them both. An inferno immediately consumed the air around them, the whole world aflame outside their little pocket of safety. Even with the shield absorbing the bulk of the attack, she could feel it singeing the ends of her hair and tips of her boots.

“Heal!” she shouted at Hendrik without looking back, barely able to keep her watering eyes open. His hands came up around her and she was forced to snap her lids shut entirely at the sudden flash of his Moreheal. An echoing tingle from the spell ran over her body and she heard him gasp with relief behind her.

After an eternity, the fire abruptly stopped. Jade tentatively peeked out over the top edge of the shield and saw the dragon, its face pulling away from them. It seemed dazed from its efforts, yellow eyes blinking at her in a way that would have been comical if the situation had been any less dire. Tendrils of smoke escaped from the sides of its mouth and drifted up toward—

Toward the top of its head. The lightly-scaled, almost _delicate_ -looking top of its head, shining in the sunlight.

Jade scrambled up, her heart beating fast in her chest. She felt Hendrik rise behind her and she thrust the shield at him.

“I have a plan,” she told him, her voice breathless as she quickly laid it out. She wasn’t sure how much time they had before the dragon resumed its attacks, and speed was of the essence.

Hendrik was, small blame to him, entirely incredulous.

“You wish to do _what_ to a dragon?” he demanded. His healed arm flexed as he gripped his retrieved sword and his colouring had returned to its normal hue—with the fresh addition of a flush, however.

“It worked before,” Jade assured him, deliberately leaving out the skill’s sometimes dubious success rate in an effort not to trouble him further. “Can you do your part?”

“I can,” he grimaced. “But Princess—”

“I think it’s our only shot, Hendrik,” she said earnestly. “She’s too powerful for us otherwise, and we _need_ to defeat her. Our friends are counting on us!”

The dragon snorted and they both whirled to face it. Lucidity came back to its gaze and its eyes began to narrow as its head swivelled from side to side.

“Too late now,” Jade decided. “Let’s go!”

Hendrik paused only a moment, his serious eyes searching her face, before he turned and dashed off in clanking armour to the other side of the nest.

Before the beast could follow him, Jade jumped up and down to catch its attention. “Hey! Look over this way! I think I have something you’d like to see!”

Her stomach dropped as the dragon turned baleful eyes toward her. Its mouth opened to reveal a hideous grin with sharp, yellowed teeth. As it stepped forward with a snarl, Jade took in a deep breath, steeled herself, and blasted a Puff-Puff straight into the monster’s face.

It didn’t work.

Jade jumped back and narrowly avoided the snap of the dragon’s awful mouth. At the other end of the summit, she could hear Hendrik cursing as he likewise tried to dodge the lashing of the enormous tail.

The monster chased after her as she retreated and attempted to regroup. The ability required a moment to collect herself, but she couldn’t find a chance in her evasion of those piercing teeth. When it next thrust its muzzle forward, she surged toward it and laid several slashing blows upon the underside of its chin, and it jerked back in pain. Seizing her chance, she tried another Puff-Puff—but again it had no effect.

“Princess!” Hendrik called out over the clanging of his shield against the spiked tail. “You are _certain_ that Puff-Puff does not work only on human foes?”

“Yes!” she shouted back, frustrated. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve done this, Hendrik?”

“I do not believe that is knowledge I wish to possess, Your Highness!” He was cut off from further reply by the dragon’s tail forcing him into a duck.

Jade parried the next ferocious bite with her raised claws and panted, thinking hard. _Why_ was it not working? Unlike her skill at weaponry, she knew her more alluring abilities were far more mental than muscular. When she'd done it before, she’d been thinking primarily of her desperation to get to Hendrik. So maybe...

She unleashed a flurry of hits upon the dragon’s muzzle and neck. It shrieked at her—probably more offended than wounded—and leaned back, its mouth huffing smoke ominously.

It was only a matter of seconds before the flames would strike. Jade closed her eyes and narrowed her thoughts down to a single image: a serious face softened by a slight smile, the one that had always seemed reserved just for _her_. Then, with that firmly affixed in her mind, she Puff-Puffed—with all her heart.

She knew before she even opened her eyes again that it had worked this time. The dragon was staring at her dazedly, plumes of smoke still rising out of its slack mouth. It slumped back into its nest in a stupor and scattered branches and grass where it lay.

On the dragon’s other side, Jade saw Hendrik race over to the now-limp tail and raise his sword in a high, two-handed grip. His blade came down in a powerful slash, slicing straight through the tail and severing a large chunk of it from the dragon’s body.

The beast let out a strangled scream and wrenched itself this way and that, knocked out of the beguilement from the pain. Jade had accounted for that, though, and was already sprinting to trade places with Hendrik.

Jade saw the flash of the knight’s Forbearance out of the corner of her eye as she faced the back of the dragon. The stump of its tail whipped around wildly, but this time it could not longer be pulled too high for her to reach. She could hear Hendrik’s grunts of exertion as he withstood the attacks of the mad, shrieking dragon, but she could not worry for him. She had a job to do, and the sooner she did it, the sooner _everyone_ would be safe.

With a tremendous leap, Jade landed upon the base of the dragon’s tail and held on for dear life as it twisted and writhed beneath her. As soon she gained her balance, she stood in a low crouch and dashed up the tail to the body of the dragon beyond. She could feel its muscles straining as her boots pounded on top of them and she made her way up its back.

The dragon suddenly reared when she passed by its wings. She might have fallen off but for her instinctively thrusting a claw into the thinner membrane there; as it was, she dangled for one heart-stopping moment before the beast returned to the ground with a thunderous stomp and her feet returned to the scales. Shakily, Jade pulled her claw out and continued upward.

She finally made it to the crest of the dragon’s head and swallowed back a sudden dizziness at the height. The ground seemed at once very far below, and she could see Hendrik battling the fierce assault with all his might. Jade took in a deep, steadying breath, willing her nerves to settle.

For her friends; for Heliodor; for her _knight_.

Jade dropped down, her legs straddling either side of the beast’s temples, and plunged both her claws into the thin scales before her with a sickening crunch.

All movement stopped at once. A gurgling sound came from deep within the dragon’s throat below. Its yellow eyes rolled back into its head, and then it slowly began to topple over.

It took a moment for Jade to realize the precariousness of her position. She scrambled back up just in time to jump off the beast’s head before it hit the ground with a deafening crash. She landed hard on the rocky terrain beside it, narrowly avoiding several serious scrapes thanks to her leather armour.

It was with disbelief that she got to her feet and stared at the still-warm body of the dragon, almost mechanically unstrapping her claws and tossing them to the ground before her. The plan had been insanity itself, but it had actually _worked_. Jade knew she had any number of minor wounds that would need tending to, but she couldn’t feel them with the adrenaline coursing through her. Her pulse pounded in her ears and her blood sang with the triumph of victory: _we won, we won, we_ won—

We.

Jade let out a shaky breath and turned.

Hendrik was standing a dozen feet away from her, his sword in one hand still. She could see his chest rising and falling with his own laboured breathing. There were deep lacerations in his armour and his torn cape stirred behind him in the wind of the summit, no longer blocked by the bulk of the enormous dragon. His face was splattered with grime and sweat and who knew what else, and his eyes were locked onto hers.

He was by far the most handsome, heroic, utterly _dashing_ man she had ever seen in her life.

“Hendrik,” Jade breathed.

Her mind raced with the multitude of things she wanted to say and do now that the time was here; but she hesitated, held back by the memory of that agonizing night where she’d put everything on the line and met only with failure. Somehow, she knew instinctively that this was not—had never been—her battle; that whatever foes he met on the field were his to face alone, however much he struggled to vanquish them.

Hendrik reversed his grip on his sword and thrust it into the ground beside him. He dropped to one knee before her, his eyes never wavering from hers.

“Princess Jade,” he said in a gravelled voice. “The time for craven inaction has passed. I must confess to you such feelings as have consumed me for months on end, very nearly since that blessed day you returned to my life. I have fought the truth of these sentiments for more sleepless nights than you can imagine, but I will deny them no longer—neither to you, nor to myself.”

Jade saw his throat bob in a hard swallow as he paused. Her heart was an uneven staccato in her chest, and she unconsciously held her breath.

“I love you,” Hendrik declared, clear and strong. “I will always love you, so long as I draw breath into my body. You are everything that is beautiful and just in this world, and my life—my heart—are entirely yours to command. The anguish I have caused you has rendered me undeserving of the mercies you once sought to bestow upon me; but I nevertheless beg that you allow me to stay by your side, that we might face the future together, whatsoever may come.”

His mouth closed into an anxious line as he waited there, in his knight’s supplication, for her response.

Jade no longer held her breath so much as she was entirely breathless. Their victory over the dragon was _nothing_ compared to the exultation that filled her now, surging through every particle of her being. The strange yearning that had dogged her ever since that glittering night in Gondolia, so long a hair’s breadth out of reach, felt finally within her grasp.

She marched over to him in a handful of quick strides. He looked up at her, that wonderfully familiar furrow in his brow, as she cradled his face in her hands and gazed deeply into his eyes.

“What did I tell you about all that knightly nonsense, Hendrik?” she asked thickly.

Then she leaned down, ignoring the dirt and the grime and the carcass of the dragon beside them, and pressed her lips to his.

He responded without hesitation this time, his mouth opening in a soft gasp as it moved against her own. Unlike the frantic urgency of their kiss in the training room, this one was slow, deliberate, and infused with such quiet passion as sent a warmth curling down to her toes. It was a kiss that neither knew nor cared how long it lasted, because there would be all the time in the world to come back to it, again and again and again.

When she pulled away, a thrill went through her to see the dazed expression on his face, his breath puffing shortly and his eyes still closed. When he opened them and met her gaze with a wondering sort of awe, she abruptly came to a decision, and felt the overwhelming _rightness_ of it inside her.

Jade straightened and let her hands slip from his face.

“Sir Hendrik,” she said formally. “Many years ago, Lady Eleanor married the knight who saved her from a dragon. What do you say to the princess who saved _you_ from the same?”

Hendrik stared at her, mouth moving soundlessly for a time before he finally managed to speak. “Princess Jade, are you...do you mean...”

She smiled, affection welling up within her at this very _typical_ response from her ever-oblivious knight. “I’m asking you to marry me, Hendrik. Not a command, but a request—from someone who loves you.”

His eyes were shining suspiciously as she watched him draw in a ragged breath.

“I will,” Hendrik said in a choked voice. “A thousand times over, I will.”

He was on his feet the very next moment, and she had only an instant of warning before he crushed her to him, her startled face pressed against his armoured chest. One hand tangled into her hair below her ponytail and the other wrapped around her waist as he held her tightly.

After a second of shock at his boldness—only ever before seen that fragile night in his homeland—her fingers curled into the mail of his shirt and she closed her eyes. This was admittedly not the most comfortable hug she’d ever been given, but she wouldn’t have traded it for anything. She was warm, and loved, and safe here.

She was _home_.

A sudden sound nearby caught their attentions and they instinctively jerked apart, heads snapping up toward the source.

At the edge of the entrance to the summit stood six figures, giving six completely predictable reactions to the scene before them:

Sylvando had both hands clasped to his cheek, his eyes shimmering over his delighted smile; Veronica stood with her arms crossed and a knowing smirk on her face; Serena was entirely overcome, fingers to her cheeks and her mouth open in a delicate ‘O’; Erik’s brows were arched high on his forehead and his mouth twisted with amused disbelief; Rab’s fingers were hooked into his vest as he positively beamed, his mustache twitching.

And Lady Eleanor’s son stood with a gentle smile on his face, so achingly familiar to Jade that it filled her at once with equal parts sorrow and joy. What need could she ever have to turn back time, when those lost to her lived on in such wonderful, precious ways?

She turned back to Hendrik. Even under the filth of battle she could see the flush on his neck and face, mortified at having been caught in such an un-knightly public display of affection.

“Let’s go, Hendrik,” Jade said, holding out a hand to him.

After a moment’s hesitation, he reached out and took it, and she knew that she would be damned if she _ever_ let go again.

 

* * *

 

The party was, according to Sylvando’s self-deprecating explanation, the best he could whip up on short notice. But it certainly seemed lively enough to Jade as she wandered through the throng of opportunistic tourists by the beachside bar, her eyes searching for the one person _least_ easily lost in a crowd.

They’d returned to the Academy immediately after reuniting with their friends. To Jade’s great satisfaction, she’d learned that her and Hendrik’s efforts against the dragon _had_ had an effect, distracting the baby dragons long enough for the fighters at the school to either dispatch them or chase them off for good. It seemed unlikely they’d return anytime soon—and regardless, that was a problem for another day. The headmaster had waved off their offers to help clean up the grounds and damaged roof, but she was determined to visit at least in the springtime, to help replant the gardens and bring them back to their former beauty.

Jade dodged someone dressed in garish clothing with a feathered headband as he raced past her. She frowned after him for a moment. He seemed...familiar somehow. Something to do with dancing? She shook off the nagging thought and continued.

Most of her friends were scattered around the bar area, occupied with their own amusements. Sylvando was discussing something animatedly with the twins in one corner, and Jade had a sneaking suspicion she would catch the word ‘wedding’ spilling from his lips if she went closer. Erik and Rab were right nearby, however, so she walked over to them instead.

The thief was scowling as he stared hard at something, his face a thundercloud. Rab seemed to be trying to console the young man, to apparently little effect.

“Can you believe that?” Erik demanded as Jade joined them, gesturing into the crowd. She turned her head obligingly, then bit her tongue to stop the smile from forming on her face.

She’d been concerned, at first, when Sylvando had mentioned that Prince Faris was currently guesting at the villa. She hadn’t heard from him since sending what she’d hoped was a _thoroughly_ demoralizing letter in response to his absurd marriage proposal. The odds that he would give up before she’d trounced him in a duel were slim, though, and she’d already been mentally calculating exactly _how_ humiliating a defeat it would take to chase him off forever.

It turned out she needn’t have worried. Upon first sight of Erik’s sister, Mia—on leave from the school for this one night—Faris had fallen hopelessly, entirely, and _ridiculously_ in love, and was that very moment earnestly attempting to convince the girl to dance with him. Jade could see that Mia _affected_ an airy disdain for the boy, but her interest was certainly more piqued than _any_ older brother could be comfortable with.

“I’m sure it doesn’t mean anything,” Jade reassured Erik. “She’ll forget all about it by the morning, and so will he.” This last part she was secretly much more dubious about; surely the prince was too incompetent to find his way through the Champs Sauvage by himself, wasn’t he?

“I don’t care if it doesn’t mean anything!” Erik snapped. “Just the sight of that slimy, cowardly, puffed-up idiot being anywhere _near_ my sister—”

He abruptly cut off as they watched Mia finally accept the delighted prince’s hand with a toss of her head, as if bestowing a great honour upon him. Within moments, they’d moved to the small dance floor, and Faris performed a dramatic twirl before pulling the now-breathless girl into his arms.

“Okay, _that’s_ it!” Erik growled, one hand fumbling for his hidden knife as he started to lunge forward.

“Hold on, laddie,” Rab laughed, nabbing the young man’s arm before he could leave. “Ye’ll never get anywhere trying to outright force them apart. Take it from a man who’s raised _two_ lasses just as stubborn and contrary as yer sister in their teenage years.”

He winked at Jade and she smiled fondly at him.

“He’s right, you know,” she told Erik. “She’ll just dig in her heels if you start waving around knives and forbidding things.”

“So am I just supposed to stand here and _watch_ this?” he protested. Faris spun Mia around and they could hear the girl’s giggle even over the music; Erik’s eye twitched involuntarily.

“Why don’t you go find my grandson while I keep an eye on the lassie here?” Rab suggested. “He was mentioning something about a late night fishing trip, aye?”

With a few more outraged grumbles, Erik grudgingly agreed to leave, giving one last pointed glare at the young dancers before vanishing into the darkness outside the bar.

“Och, the trials of youth,” Rab lamented, stroking his mustache with amusement. He then squinted up at Jade. “And what are _ye_ doing all by yer lonesome, lass?”

“Trying to solve that very problem, actually,” she said. “Have you seen Hendrik?”

The old man jabbed a thumb toward another of the bar exits. “Out on the patio, last I checked. Trying to make sure yer betrothed doesnae escape ye again, eh?”

Jade ominously punched a fist into her palm. “He knows I’d make him _wish_ the dragon had gotten him instead.”

Rab chuckled and gave her a pat on the arm. “Good lass. I’ll see ye later, eh?”

It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust after she ducked through the flapping tent fabric and emerged onto the dark patio beyond. The area was almost entirely deserted, the patrons—and partygoers—drawn to the lights and music of the bar. The scent of the sea was stronger here than on the inside, and it filled her nose as she approached the tall man at the far side of the deck.

She’d assumed him to be looking out over the water, but his eyes were fixed on the stars instead, studying the constellations with a gravity quite at odds with the revelry of the evening. He wasn’t aware of her presence at first, her footsteps drowned out by the restless waves beyond.

“Avoiding even your own engagement party, Hendrik?” Jade teased lightly as she joined him at the railing.

He started and whirled to face her. They’d all taken a chance to wash up and change at the villa before coming to the beach, and he now wore a simple pair of trousers and a laced tunic, open slightly at the throat to reveal a very fascinating glimpse of collarbone. There was a flash of his pendant chain as he moved and she wondered, not for the first time, if he ever took it off.

The idea that she would very soon have the opportunity to find out for herself, was at once both entirely thrilling, as well as distinctly unhelpful for _any_ hope of present mental coherence.

“Forgive me,” Hendrik said to her. “I had not noticed your approach,” He started to lean over in an automatic bow before he halted suddenly, blinking down at her uncertainly.

Jade tilted her head with one hand hovering near her cheek. “How long do you think it will take you to break _that_ habit?”

“Possibly some time,” he admitted ruefully. “I have seldom ever had occasion to drop formality in an acquaintance.”

“‘Acquaintance’?” she asked with an arched brow. “Do you often find yourself accepting marriage proposals from your _acquaintances_ , Hendrik? Should I be concerned?”

He turned again to the sea, his hands resting upon the railing, but she could see the slight smile on his face. “I begin to suspect that you came here only to mock me, Prin—”

Hendrik stopped again, and she saw his throat bob. “Jade,” he corrected then, in a far steadier voice than she might ever have thought him capable of once.

Faced with the split-second decision of whether to acknowledge the immensity of the moment or simply let it flow through her with a warmth that even a Hekswood blizzard could not dissipate, Jade chose the latter.

“As I said, I came to see why you weren’t at the party.” She moved to stand beside him, her own hands grasping the railing lightly. “It has all your favourites—music, dancing, endless inane conversation. I almost wonder that Sylvando didn’t decide to hold it at the casino instead, so we could at least waste some money while we’re at it.”

Hendrik coughed and her eyes flew up to his face, instantly zeroing in on his sudden discomfort.

“During the course of my stay here, there were certain...unfortunate occurrences,” he said tightly, refusing to look at her. “The result of which includes an indefinite prohibition from the venue for myself, Sylvando, and Prince Faris.”

Jade had never wanted a full and complete accounting of something this much in her entire _life_.

“Why, Hendrik! What in the world did you _do?_ ” she demanded eagerly.

“Merely defended my honour and reputation against an accusation most odious,” he declared, and she could _see_ his jaw clenching at the mere memory of it. “I would beseech you not to question me too closely at present, that the spirit of the evening remain unspoiled.”

Her agonized curiosity was dampened somewhat at his request, and she reluctantly decided to grant him mercy. Besides, she could always get the story from Sylvando later.

“All right,” she conceded. Then a spark of mischief overtook her. “Just one question—would _I_ have gotten involved if I’d been there too?”

“I have not a doubt that yours would have been the very first fist to land,” Hendrik replied, finally looking down at her again with a smile that sent her heart knocking in her chest.

Her quiet laughter rang out over the brisk sea air and she saw his eyes soften as he gazed at her. She affectionately placed one hand overtop the back of his, marvelling at the difference in size between them. He surprised her when he twisted his hand around and clasped them together instead, lacing his large fingers with hers.

This was not the passion of that night in the courtyard or the raw vulnerability of the Eyrie summit; but it was tender and sincere, and full of promise for the future. There was still so much to acknowledge and explain—and doubtless more misunderstandings to come—but she knew somehow that it would be _these_ moments that would sustain them, more than any others.

Hendrik seemed to be thinking along the same lines as her, and cleared his throat.

“This...is not an easy path for me to walk, Jade,” he said quietly, his eyes serious. “I have trained for many years to hide my emotions and curb their expression. I must needs beg your patience while we navigate this new course before us.”

“Hendrik,” she started to say, but he was not finished.

“I cannot give you the assurance you deserve, that no further discord will ever befall us.” His hand tightened on hers and he took in a long, deep breath. “But what I _can_ vow to you, this moment, is that it will never again be the result of my denying the depth and justness of my feelings for you.”

Her eyes pricked at the edges and she blinked rapidly, struggling to maintain her composure. Suddenly, it was all too much to linger on, right then. Words knotted together in her throat, and she lacked the ability to properly untangle them. He wasn’t the _only_ one who’d spent half a lifetime finding strength in avoidance and restraint, after all.

So she deflected instead, and prayed that he would understand her meaning, as he’d always done.

“Well,” Jade said with a forced ease, “I suppose we can always try to settle things in the sparring ring, if nothing else. I found myself quite enjoying the outcome of our last match—at least the first part of it, anyway.”

As she’d hoped, a flush immediately blossomed on his neck, and she eagerly watched its spread across his face.

“And should I be wary of further deceitfulness in your methods?” he asked reproachfully. The idea that he was obviously still rankled by her dishonorable trick banished the last of her unease, and a genuine smile returned to her face.

“That’s entirely up to you, Sir Hendrik,” she teased. “I have to do _something_ when you’re stuck in the throes of stubborn nobility.”

Hendrik lifted their linked hands to his lips and pressed a kiss upon hers. “I will always depend on you to keep me honest, Princess Jade.”

Well, _that_ certainly did it. She was only human, after all, and he was at that moment very gallant and handsome and altogether knightly, and in possession of an irresistible-looking collarbone that she was frankly _dying_ to make her acquaintance with.

He stumbled back in surprise when she launched herself at him, but quickly recovered, a soft grunt escaping him when she impatiently pried his mouth open with her own. His arms came up around her and lifted her into the air, and her hands eagerly roamed over the flexing muscles of his shoulders and back. She found herself instantly revising her earlier thought when he nibbled at her lower lip and her breath hissed in a sharp gasp, because surely _this_ was a moment just as capable of sustaining them as the other kind, surely it could only help to do this over and over—

“Yoo hoo, lovebirds! We’ve got _so_ many ideas for colours and venues and place settings, and we simply _have_ to get your opinion on—oh dear, am I interrupting something?”

They broke off the kiss and their heads swivelled as one. Sylvando was standing at the other end of the patio, his arms crossed and one finger tapping at his cheek.

“I could come back, if you think you’ll be a while longer,“ he said, a sly look on his face. “Is there anything specific you darlings would like me to tell everybody?”

“Sylvando, I would _strongly_ advise you to make yourself scarce,“ Hendrik gritted out, his arms reflexively tightening around Jade in irritation.

“Hm. That might be a little _too_ specific, honey, but I’ll pass it along!” The other man made them an exaggerated bow and followed it up with a wink before he disappeared back into the lights and bustle of the tented bar.

Jade tapped Hendrik on one bicep and he loosened his grip enough so she could slide back down to the wooden floor with a soft thump. She brushed back her bangs and smoothed out her skirt while he busied himself adjusting his belt, clearing his throat repeatedly as he did so.

“We probably should join the others,” she told him with an apologetic look.

He nodded reluctantly. “Propriety _would_ generally suggest that one attend the celebration of one’s own betrothal.”

“Goodness knows we don’t want to flout the stern demands of propriety if we can possibly help it,” Jade agreed. He gave her a sideways glance, seeking—and immediately receiving—confirmation of her mockery. A sigh escaped him, and she couldn’t hold back her smile.

“Cheer up, Sir Knight,” she said, hooking her arm through his as they made their way across the patio back to the bar. “If all else fails, we can simply get drunk—and I for one am _always_ up for a good piggyback ride.”

 

* * *

 

It was much later that night when she went to him, the villa quietly slumbering as she slipped through the halls on silent feet. He responded immediately to her soft tap on his door and she wondered if he’d _known_ , somehow, that she would come. If he’d been waiting for her.

Moonlight shone through the window and cast the room in a ghostly glow. He was sitting up in his bed when she entered, and she saw the flash of metal on his bare chest. They looked at one another for a long moment, the sounds of their breathing a whisper in the dim light; then he wordlessly pulled back the covers in invitation.

Her _intentions—_ as well as his, she was sure—had come from an innocent place. The day had been exhausting for them both in more ways than one, and she’d wanted only to _be_ with him, not willing to be separated for a second longer than necessary. He made room for her in the bed as she joined him and they curled into one another, an echo of that precious night they’d once spent together.

But it was different now. _They_ were different. She could feel the racing of his pulse beneath her fingertips and the trembling of his muscled arms around her, though he was obviously trying hard to keep still. His eyes were hooded as she met his gaze; there was both a question and an answer there, and she knew it was up to _her_ how she chose to respond. He would only ever leave it to her, and she had never felt so safe and cherished than at the moment of that decision.

They both gasped when their lips met, her hands at his face and slipping into his hair. She pressed closer to him and deepened the kiss as his arms tightened around her. His breath was hot in her mouth and he made fascinating sounds in the back of his throat in response to their tongues sliding together. She scraped her fingertips against his scalp and a thrill went through her at the corresponding rumble in his chest.

An urgency started to build inside her as they lost themselves in the quiet passion. She had spent too many years yearning for the things she couldn’t have, had waited too long for this to truly mean something. It was so much easier to _show_ him the intensity of her feelings through lips and bodies moving together, than words that faltered and flitted just out of reach.

She insistently tugged his hand up under her shirt, and the rush of heat that swept down through her belly was as much from his ragged moan as the feel of his calloused touch at her breast. They broke off the kiss as he moved over her, and she rolled onto her back to allow him better access to her flushed chest. She whimpered when he replaced his fingers with mouth and tongue, his beard rasping exquisitely against her skin; and the breath went out of her altogether when his tentative hand eventually moved down to the top of her shorts, seeking permission before he went any further.

There was _nothing_ she would not have given him right then, most especially not approval to continue onward to the burning ache between her legs. They both groaned when he finally reached the core of her arousal, his breath stuttering hotly against her breast. It was at once strange and exhilarating to feel the touch of another there for the first time as his large fingers gently stroked the most sensitive parts of her body.

She had never known what it was like to be worshipped in this way, his devotion enfolding her in its ardent embrace. Her hips rocked in helpless circles as he resumed his attentions at her breast and worked his hand between her thighs. Her climax came upon her deliriously fast, quicker than any of those lonely nights she’d spent caught up in hopeless fantasy. She shuddered and pulled at his hair as she bucked against him, so tightly it _must_ have hurt, but he didn’t waver for a second as he slowly helped her come down from the daze of her mindless pleasure.

His eyes were clouded over with desire when she came back to herself and turned to him. His chest heaved unsteadily and he looked almost wild as she pushed him down to the mattress and trailed her fingers across the musculature of his stomach, humming her approval. When she reached the laces of his loose trousers he abruptly caught her hand and voiced a choked objection. She kissed him again then, trying to prove the eagerness of her intent, and his opposition hesitantly melted away.

He let out a broken moan when her fingers curled around his length, and his half-lidded eyes fluttered shut. His gasping shock gave her time to recover from her own, now that she was faced with the reality of just how bewilderingly _big_ he felt in her hand. She wanted to take it slow, to explore every inch of him and learn the cause of each hitched breath and twitching reaction; but she knew he was too overwhelmed, too close to the precipice to prolong this delicious agony. One thing they had now, after all, was _time_ —for the present, the future, and everything in between.

Her mouth went to his neck and she kissed and nuzzled him, relishing in the intoxicating scent of his aftershave mingled with something uniquely _him_. His hips thrust upward with the motion of her hand and she could feel him inching closer to his release with each steady stroke. She chased after it with him, hungry to memorize every last detail of his surrender, the rapture that she would bring him to, again and again.

And when he finally cried out and spilled all over her fingers, it was _her_ name on his lips. Like a promise; like a prayer.

 

* * *

 

It was a sunny autumn morning in Cobblestone when Jade and Hendrik bid farewell to their friends and led their horses outside the town. She had considered lingering for a day or two—as Rab was planning to—but Hendrik seemed determined to return to Heliodor by evening, and she had no real objections. The idea of getting some time alone, just the two of them, also had its own appeal.

(Besides, there was at least _one_ occasion they’d all be back together again in the near future, depending on how complicated the preparations for a royal wedding turned out to be. Here, Jade had precisely no experience at all; her only consolation was that _her_ trepidation couldn’t possibly hold a candle to _Hendrik’s_ dread of formal affairs.)

He helped boost her up onto Opal with all the unnecessary chivalry of a trained knight, and Jade noted the slight flush that bloomed on his neck as his hands lingered at her waist. He’d been blushing quite a bit that morning, as if he kept getting caught up in certain recollections at the most inconvenient times.

As Hendrik mounted Obsidian and made an adjustment to his saddlebag, she mentally calculated how long it would take to reach the cabin at the halfway point between Cobblestone and Heliodor. Surely they could stop for an hour—or two—and still make it back in time for supper. Hendrik would protest at first, of course, but Jade was well on her way to figuring out the _many_ delightful methods with which she could overcome his stern sense of resolve, so long a source of frustration to her.

“Ready to go?” she asked him, craning her neck to adjust for the absurd height he reached upon his horse.

“Of course,” Hendrik nodded. But there was a hesitation about him, and his hands twitched the reins nervously.

Jade frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“I was merely...ruminating on the king’s likely reaction to our news,” he replied, worry creasing his brow. “I did not seek his permission before accepting his only daughter’s hand in marriage.”

“And how well do you think _that_ might have gone over with your betrothed, Sir Hendrik?” she huffed, irritation coiling through her. Truthfully, she was a bit uncertain as to her father’s response herself, but she figured he’d be so overjoyed she was marrying _somebody_ that he’d overlook any breach of propriety—so long as he never discovered just where his loyal servant’s _hands_ had been the night previous.

Hendrik’s eyes softened as he smiled down at her. “You make a fair point,” he admitted. “If I must confine myself to military matters until such time as his ire fades, it will well be worth it.”

Jade glowed at that—the idea that Hendrik would consider their relationship even more important than the desires of his sworn _liege_ —before something else occurred to her.

“Ah,” she said, now fidgeting with the reins herself. “I forgot to mention. I may _possibly_ have promoted Sergeants Mica and Galena in your absence.”

“Promoted?” Hendrik’s eyebrows shot high on his forehead.

“Yes. To...my ladies-in-waiting. On a sometime basis only,” she added hastily. “Just when I have need of them.”

Hendrik was staring at her so incredulously that Jade felt the need to muster a further defence of herself: “It’s not as though I forced them into it. They accepted quite willingly! Well, more or less.”

She really wasn’t quite sure what to make of his reaction when he turned from her to face forward in his saddle again.

“I see,” he said, affecting an air of exasperation. “Not content merely with stealing my heart, you pilfer from my officer corps as well.”

Jade relaxed at the undercurrent of amusement she detected in his voice, and her lips quirked upward. “I almost hate to ask which you’re more upset by, Hendrik.”

“The ride is long, and we can discuss the matter at leisure.” He gripped Obsidian’s reins more tightly in his hands and gave her a glance. “Are there any further confessions before we leave, Jade?”

“Several, Sir Knight,” she answered in a deliberately sultry tone, dark with promise. “But you’ll have to wait until we reach the cabin later to find out what I have in mind for _you_.”

She laughed at his startled eyes and sudden flush, the simple thrill of power rushing through her; not the power of a princess over her knight, but of a woman over the man she loved, who loved her in return.

“Let’s go home,” Jade said, thumping Opal’s sides and galloping down the road. Hoofbeats followed after her and she knew that he was with her, as he ever would be. She basked in the blessing of this precious moment in time—and all the rest to come—as they rode off into the crisp sunshine together.


End file.
